


Grace Kelly

by jinx22



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Dads in Love, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Prep x Goth, Recreational Drug Use, Romantic Comedy, Set in 2008, Songfic, but it will get better and he will love himself soon i promise, copious mentions of my chemical romance, descriptions of violence, dorothea is a friend everyone needs, emetophobia warning, everyone has my space, gratuitous taylor swift, mentions of vomiting, on ferdinands side, tags will be added as the story progresses, tags will be added as the story progresses!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-08-13 19:40:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 43,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20179648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinx22/pseuds/jinx22
Summary: Everyone's final year of high school has fast approached, and with it comes the biggest event of every 18 year olds life: Prom night.Hubert is panic stricken at the thought that he might have caught feelings, and Ferdinand is just trying not to get beaten up.





	1. Teenagers

**Author's Note:**

> *UNFINISHED/ENDED*
> 
> Wow! I can't believe I'm actually writing long fic. It's always been a dream of mine to write something 50k + so I hope you all stay tuned on this wild ride with me!
> 
> I want to say a really big thankyou to @Moxagita for the idea of this, who tweeted one day "Middle school AU where Hubert and Edelgard hang around in hot topic until they meet a boy with Abercrombie & Fitch pants and a polo shirt (that boy is Ferdinand)" which led to me seeing it, and becomming unable to get it out of my mind until I started to write it.
> 
> Another thank you to @kiralfonse, @gogoinaro, @banana_ge)_ge and @jasmeow0 for the help and letting me spam you all with ideas <3
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy!

It’s late in the afternoon of the first day back at school. The new term had begun, putting an end to the fun of summer holidays and the long sunny days at the beach. Or rather, for Edelgard and Hubert, it had put an end to the long days they spent alone in Edelgards bedroom listening to music and painting each others nails black.

Its (supposedly) an exciting year for the two of them though, as being their last year at High School and both of them having turned eighteen during the last year. It was finally time to experience real High School life, kiss boys and girls, drink alcohol and -.. Apparently, hang out the front of Hot Topic.

Edelgard is sipping a peach bubble tea, the opposite aesthetic of the colours she wore - a black knee length dress that hugged her thighs and a white button up under it. She had a ribbon tied around the collar of the shirt, which was bright red - as were the platform boots she wore. To finish the look off, she wore a black cross on a long necklace.

Hubert is beside her, no drink in his hands which are wrapped in black fingerless gloves, wrists adorning a thick spiky bracelet. These hands are tucked into his pockets of his dark blue and green tartan dress pants.

The start of their school year is already boring. So undeniably dull. But neither Edelgard or Hubert wanted to admit that - especially as the way that someone’s last year of high school was made to seem so fun. It felt like there was an unspoken rule between those who had completed it to never mention that it was, in reality, hyped up.

So there they were, standing around in a mall filled with mums and babies- out the front of Hot Topic that was playing 'teenagers' by My Chemical Romance. It was not how either of them wanted to spend their final year of school - how they did want to spend the year varied, but it was safe to say neither of them wanted to spend it in a shopping centre.

Edelgard glanced up to her friend, taking another slow sip of the juice in her hand and pursing her lips as she swallowed, mind ticking - thoughts so perfectly articulated. It was one of the many reasons why Hubert and her had stayed friends, she wasn’t an idiot and neither was he.

“We need more friends.” Edelgard said, leaning back against the wall and placing one of her booted feet up behind her on the wall.

Hubert’s top lip twitched in disagreement, he was quite comfortable just being friends with one person. With more people brought more drama, more annoyance and interruption of the way he liked to do things. 

The taller of the two shrugged slightly, “I disagree.”

Edelgard rolled her eyes - not bothering to hide it from Hubert. Another thing Hubert liked about her, the way she didn’t hide her true feelings or sugar coat anything; what you saw was what you got.

“Prom is at the end of this year.” She continued speaking, breaking through Hubert’s thoughts.

Prom. The subject of the year, the biggest celebration of someone’s life - some would argue. To Hubert it was nothing more than an inconvenience, the fuss around finding a date, learning to dance. The way parents - especially in this town, as prestigious as it was - would act as if who you were taking to prom would be who you married one day, as if you would come home from the dance with a baby and a house lease.

He knew who his parents would want him to take.

That was the main issue with families such as his own, the concern they had for marrying into wealth or marrying for the sake of a last name and a connection to a royal family that died hundreds of years ago.

Hubert couldn’t understand it, especially the way the richer families upheld their history and values like there wasn’t years of secrets and facts swept under a carpet. Like the text books about their families weren't full of convoluted facts, like the truth hadn’t been twisted, and wasn’t different in every story they were told. Like each family, each name, wasn’t as bad as the next; all sharing the same web made up of lies upon lies. 

Hubert had grown accustomed to the fact that his parents would want him to marry Edelgarld one day, as her family was among one of the more prestigious and well known. However, he knew the contentedness he felt was only because the idea of them becoming betrothed one day had been force fed to him since they had met.

It was a day Hubert remembered well; for it had been a large GALA event to congratulate the combining of two companies. The companies in question were Edelgard’s father’s, who had (after many years of persuasion) accepted this co-running, and Ferdinand’s and Hubert’s father’s.

Hubert was sure while this planning was going underway that his father had the brilliant idea in the back of his head that not _ only _ would he be able to co-run a worldwide company, but Hubert would be able to marry Edelgard eventually, and in doing so inherit her last name and the family fortune.

His life had been planned out for him before he and Edelgard had even properly met.

The planning process of this GALA event had fallen to the responsibilities of his father, and because of that Hubert knew too well that his dad was ready to burst at any moment. It was like a build up of anger - his dad like a kettle ready to boil and spit hot water over anyone in his wake. It was only a matter of time before someone slipped up enough to be the poor fool whom his dad exploded upon.

The slip up came eventually, as it always did.

Hubert had been playing ball with some children of the other rich families that had all attended to watch the signing. Dimitri - heir to the Blaiddyd family fortune, and The Von Regan heir who’s name was Claude.

Dimitri’s father owned a seperate company which was competing in the market for the same one as Edelgards. Alongside them too, were the Von Regan’s, a well built organization that consisted of several chair people under equal ownership - also in just as much competition with the other families.

Of course, along side them too, was the heir to the Aegir name and whose father was part of the co-ownership agreement. Ferdinand. He was being kept close to his father’s side the entire night- not a hair out of line and chin tilted up slightly as if he had been trained to keep that stance. Hubert knew the look of someone who feared their parents, and the look that Ferdinand held behind his eyes when their gazes met was it to a tee.

The night had gone well for what it was. Everyone seemed relaxed, and happy enough to let the children out into the yard to play ball as people read their final speeches of the night.

The area the GALA was held in was safe enough too, tucked away in a castle-like-building atop a hill; decorated and well lit with bright yellow lights amongst a grapevine that wound around large pillars. It had been a warm day, so most of the children had abandoned their fitted waistcoats and heels - throwing them to the ground and getting dirt marks on the expensive clothes they would surely be yelled at for later.

Most had untucked their white shirts by now and bow-ties had come loose. The younger girls had given up too and undone their tight ponytails as they all played just outside the room the adults mingled in. The grass area they were playing in was separated from the GALA hall by a long glass wall - a recipe for disaster after giving a group of children who were high on red cordial a soccer ball to play with.

Hubert remembered the night vividly. He remembered the little groups everyone had formed into, Dimitri and Felix sitting alongside Ingrid - all talking secretly about something. Linhardt laying in the grass ignoring Casper, a close friend, while he was excitedly trying to explain a story to both him and Edelgard. Claude was sitting against the wall with Hilda, who was painting his nails - Lorenz shared this space with them too, looking like he had just had his own nails painted.

And then there was Ferdinand. Playing alone.

Which was when the incident happened, and the soccer ball Ferdinand was kicking alone had been booted into the glass wall, shattering it completely.

Everyone had frozen at that point, eyes turning to Ferdinand, mixed reactions of fear for him , amusement because they didn’t like him, smirks because they knew what was coming next. The crash not only had alerted all the children, but had alerted all their parents too - who turned their heads towards the grassy area in wait for someone to step up and take responsibility.

Of course, when no one replied, it was Hubert’s dad who stormed over, staring right at Ferdinand as if he had been waiting for the opportunity to yell at the boy.

His father raised his hand up high, about to bring it down across Ferdinands face when-

“It was me.”

Hubert spoke up, the stupid little seven year old he was. And maybe it had been because of the look he had seen earlier in Ferdinand’s eyes, the fear behind them. Maybe it was the way Ferdinand played alone - or maybe it was because he knew that, between them, he had the least to lose.

He didn’t want to re-live the memories, but it was safe to say Hubert had received a nasty smack across his cheek and a mouthful of insults at the action. What a disappointment he was, how he couldn’t be trusted, how did he ever expect to inherit the family name when he acted out like this? 

His father had walked off abruptly, making promises to deal with Hubert later. He met briefly with Ferdinands shocked gaze before the boy had been dragged away by his own dad, leaving Hubert alone.

Alone except for the shorter girl behind him, hair long and pulled back into two ponytails that were tied by long threads of red ribbon. She was silent, only reaching out to take Hubert’s hand and wrap her smaller fingers around two of his fingers. He met her purple-blue gaze, and although she didn’t speak he knew from that moment she would be someone he could trust. He managed a small sad smile, one that she gave back. A silent ode, or promise, to be there for him.

It was from that day that Hubert and Edelgard had become best friends; a continuous support for each other. Especially when years later, Edelgard’s father’s company building had been set on fire. With it, not just the building burnt to the ground, but so too did Edelgard’s three older siblings.

It was a devastating account of affairs which pointed suspiciously in the way of Hubert and Ferdinand’s fathers; yet nothing could be done legally, for these accusations had only rumours to be based on.

Rumours that told of an agreement on paper - that if something were to happen to the building, it would fall into the hands of all three of them - being burnt that night.

Rumours that a large sum of money had been stolen that same night, any evidence of it ever existing, burned.

And because these were just rumours - because his and Ferdinand’s fathers tracks were so well covered- the agreement of a conjoint business continued. Edelgards dad was too dependent on the other’s input to the company to cut them from his committee after using money out of his own pocket to rebuild.

The lives of his children- Edelgards siblings- were taken in vain, and there was never someone held accountable for the tragedy that night.

They had Edelgard’s dad at a dead-end, with nowhere left to go except for into the hands of two greedy men who used him for his family name.

And thus, the cycle of the corrupt history books continued; the only way for Edelgard’s dad to regain full control of the company to marry Edelgard off to either Ferdinand or Hubert, himself - what Hubert had suspected was the plan all along.

It was why he and Edelgard alike despised the whole idea of the royal history.

“I ** _SAID_ **, prom is at the end of the year.” Edelgard repeated, and only then did Hubert realise he had been zoning out the entire time.

Hubert blinked a few times, drawing his gaze towards her and nodding his head in agreement, “so it is.” He said, as if he hadn’t just given it five minutes of thought. 

Edelgard punched him gently on the shoulder - an affectionate gesture that she had picked up since she was a child, “doesn’t that excite you a bit?” And Hubert can’t help but roll his eyes at her now, for she should know after 11 years of friendship that the thought of a big social event does nothing for him, in fact it does the opposite of excite him - instead it makes him anxious. Being in a room packed with loud music and students? 

“I fail to see the appeal.”

Hubert knows in the back of his mind his feelings and emotions are stunted - for everyone, even the social recluses, enjoy their High School Prom. And if not the dancing, loud aspect of it then the dating, decorating and romantic side of it. But Hubert couldn’t find it in himself to even entertain the idea of it, he had never experienced the need to take someone to a dance, or buy someone flowers or dinner - even kissing repulsed him somewhat.

Maybe he is wrong for feeling this way. Maybe, as much as he hates to admit it, his upbringing; primarily the lack of love from his father is what has caused this? His aversion for all things love, his enjoyment of bands like My Chemical Romance and the way their lyrics about not needing anyone spoke to him.

Hubert nodded slightly to himself, yes - when no one else understood him the lyrics of Gerard Way would be there for him.

And that was what this dance was all about - romance. He had studied it, he understood the concept of it and the science behind it, how feeling sexual attraction to someone causes a chemical reaction in your body. But he had never felt it.

He turned back to Edelgard, despising the look of concern in her eyes. He knew she wanted him to find his own happily ever after. She wanted him to find the perfect girl who would fix all his issues and make him into a normal human being. But it wasn’t going to happen, and Hubert was content with that.

There’s an aura of disappointment about her, and Hubert wonders briefly if it’s because she’s expecting him to ask her to attend or if it’s for another reason.

“Do you have someone in mind who you hope to attend with?” Hubert asks, watching a blush adorn her cheeks as she slowly shakes her head. It’s an obvious lie, if Hubert has ever seen one - yet he gets a feeling that it’s not him who she’s blushing about. Not that his feelings matter, if she is happy then he is content.

Edelgard goes to reply-- to deny it, probably, when they’re both interrupted by a smiling face and too-bright orange hair that is pulled into a messy bun at the back of his head.

“Funny seeing you both here!” He greets them, holding his own bubble tea in hand and bearing a bright smile.

_Ferdinand. _

He’s not even worth an eyeroll. 

Hubert knew that the Aegir heir brushed it off as coincidence, but Hubert doubted it was anything but Ferdinand stalking them to the mall to try (again) to make friends.

Hubert had grown up alongside Ferdinand and was still not used to this clingy behavior. Ever since Hubert had taken the blame for him kicking the ball into the glass wall, Ferdinand had persistently tried to make friends with Edelgard and himself; Edelgard was kinder then Hubert though, especially as a child when the two had played together. As the three of them grew older and their interests changed (Metalica VS Taylor Swift), and what distance there was between them grew bigger.

Yet while Hubert and Edelgard matured, (in Hubert’s opinion) Ferdinand just became more annoying, flaunting his status as the Aegir heir and shoving it into anyone’s face that he could. It was too bothersome for Hubert to put up with, he didn’t have the time to be fake-nice to someone like that.

It was a nuisance that now Hubert had no choice but to interact with him, seeing as Ferdinand was Edelgard’s highest opposition as school captain of the Black Eagles – one of the three sports teams at the school. The other two, Golden Deer and Blue Lions, had their own school captains.

“Hello Ferdinand.” Edelgard greets, smiling pleasantly at Ferdinand; which Hubert assumed was her way of giving him the benefit of the doubt that he _ wasn’t _ just there to pester them to be his friend. Instead believing him that it _ was _ a coincidence he happened to be buying tea at the same location as them. At the same time. 

“Hello.” The overly cheerful boy greets her back, and Hubert notes even his voice is still obnoxious. Ferdinand continues - gaze switching between the two of them, “I look forward to working with you both this year in the school committee.” He doesn’t wait for either of them to reply before he continues, “I’m not sure if you know - but my father was a school captain when he was in High School.”

Annoying. He still acts like the child he was when they all met a decade ago- does Ferdinand really think that he’s got the right of being the School Captain just because his father was? 

Huberts nose wrinkles slightly as he finds the more he watches Ferdinand the more turned off by the others attitude he is. If Ferdinand ever became school captain then so help them all, having to stare at his too-bright hair and his beaming smile. Along with his odd fashion choice of khaki shorts and a dull red polo neck with boat shoes. How old is he? Fifty?

No. He’s not. Instead, he’s just another of the insufferable rich kids who attend their overpriced school that think just because their daddy has some money in his pocket they have a right to everything.

“Yes. We know.” Huberts voice is dull but it doesn’t seem to discourage Ferdinand’s cheerfully-cocky expression. A side glance towards Edelgard tells him that shes not thinking the same thing, and Hubert would be immediatly frustrated by that if not for the worry that gets caught in his throat because he knows that look in her eyes. 

She’s _ scheming _ something.

It’s just a twinkle, hardly noticeable. 

Hardly noticeable unless you’re Hubert, who has since learnt to recognise that twinkle after one too many times of being being the receptor of it.

Ferdinand shuffles where he stands in front of Hubert and Edelgard - beginning to look a bit uncomfortable now - and maybe Hubert should have given him more credit because he looks like he’s finally gotten the hint he is unwelcome here.

“Well. Anyway.” Ferdinand says, glancing between the two of them once more – “I must be off, I have horse riding lessons tonight and I need to pick up something for Father before I head home. See you both in school tomorrow.” 

The idiot hesitates, as if waiting for either of them to say goodbye. Neither of them do (of course), so he just dips his head and then leaves, looking a little downtrodden. Hubert watches and waits until Ferdinand passes around the corner before turning to Edelgard who is smirking wider now, resisting a laugh.

“What?” Hubert practically snaps at her - fed up with the secrecy and the look she keeps giving him

Her lips quiver in humour; “I think you should give him a second ch-.”

“Don’t.” Hubert cuts her off. “Don’t say what I think you’re able to say.”

Edelgard just smirks back at him, reaching out to thread her arm through his. “Aw, c’mon Hubie. It’ll be fun.”

Hubert tries to shrug her off but her grip is oddly tight and persistent. He gives up, because all this social activity is tiresome- and allows her to walk close as he leads them away from the dreaded Hot Topic and in the opposite direction of Ferdinand. Hubert didn’t think he could bear a second encounter with him today, or for the next week (or_ month _ or _ year _.)

Still unable to get it off his mind- Edelgard’s odd suggestion about a second chance for Ferdinand bothers him. She had never mentioned it in the past and neither of them had been concerned about the welfare of Ferdinand before. They had never been his friend, not really.

And fun?_ It’ll be fun? _ Edelgard must not have been in her right mind because there’s nothing fun about befriending an idiot.

  
It doesn’t occur to him that perhaps he is being a bit cruel, because Hubert just doesn’t see the point in being nice to someone for the sake of their lineage. Edelgard too agrees on that stance - which is why he’s confused all the more about her sudden willingness to make friends with Ferdinand. Neither of them have cared before about upholding their families reputation, thinking that the concern of someone’s family name is petty; and without this strange focus their parents and friends alike have on such trivial matters such as last names, life would be a lot easier. 

_ So why? _

The two of them end up climbing into Edelcards car, her taking the drivers side and Hubert dumping his school bag on the floor between his feet. The conversations were lazy, mostly guided by Edelgard, until they faded into silence as she drove.

Finally, Hubert cleared his throat slightly, causing Edelgard to glance to him.

“What did you see today in Ferdinand that made you think that he’s worth giving a second chance to?”

“Hubert.” The way Edelgard says his name is like a warning, telling him not to push it any more.

Hubert ignores the tone, sitting up in his seat a bit more before speaking; “You wouldn’t have suggested it unless you had already thought about it.”

Edelgard sighs, looking out the rear window and turning a corner, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel as she thinks. He’s happy to let her think before she speaks, knowing by her expression that she’s decided not to drop the conversation and is now processing how to bridge the topic in a way that’s smart.

When she finally replies she doesn’t meet Hubert’s gaze, “because he’s as lonely as you were when I first met you.” 

Hubert opens his mouth, then shuts it again, running his tongue over the back of his teeth as his eyes cast down. She has a point, he has to admit; but unlike Ferdinand, Hubert was never annoying. He was never a brat who opened his mouth too much, he was never that obsessed with himself to the point where every conversation came back to it. And most of all, Hubert, unlike Ferdinand, could take a hint when he knew someone didn’t want to spend time with him.

“You realise his father had a hand in your siblings death?”

It’s a low-blow, and the fierceness in which Edelgard’s gaze suddenly meets his own is enough to tell him that he’s overstepped boundaries. Lucky they’re close to his house, which Edelgard eruptly pulls up to and slams the gear stick down on.

“And yours did not, Hubert?” Edelgard questions, speaking again before Hubert is able to get another word in. “More than that, I would have suspected that someone such as yourself would have known that a child is _ not _ their parent.” She holds his gaze, a gaze that Hubert knows he must back down from - for she is right.

He dips his head immediately, guilt warming his belly, “My apologies. I wasn’t thinking.”

She purses her lips, turning away from him to glare out the front window now. “Apology accepted. I’ll see you tomorrow at school.” 

Hubert knows it’s cue to leave, so he opens the car door, wishing her a safe drive home and turning to his house - desperately wanting to turn away from the large angry looking doors and run away - but forcing himself to step forwards.


	2. You Belong with Me

It stings when people treat him the way they do.

They don’t think he notices, but he does. The harsh glares and looks like he’s a bothersome bee in the hallways.

It’s always the same look, - except for one person. 

  
A very unlikely friend, but his best friend none-the-less.

Dorothea. Not just the queen of theatre but also the head of the creative arts program this year at school. She was the obvious choice to be head of such a creative program, but Ferdinand couldn’t help but be proud of her regardless.

It brings a small smile to his face as he crosses the road to his house, for he and Dorothea had not always been so close. They lived opposite lives - where Ferdinand had a royal history sewn on to his last name and lived a life of luxuries, Dorothea had been raised in an orphanage.

It was because of the way the rich had treated Dorothea growing up, that they had not become friends at first. She had assumed that what the other rich families stood for was what Ferdinand stood for. In retrospect, Ferdinand doesn’t blame her for those feelings. Upon first glance Ferdinand looked and acted like every little snot nosed little rich kid did. He too, admits, he was always obsessed with his lineage and it is thanks to Dorothea calling him out on it that he was able to realise this behavior (some of it, at least, for he knows in the back of his head he still has a very stuckup glow about himself.) 

As two individuals who had started off hating each other he and Dorothea were now as close as friends could be.

Ferdinand fiddles to find the right key amongst a group of horse keyrings on a small chain as he opens the front gate to his house, head still in the clouds as he pushes the front door open after struggling to unlock it. The house is silent and Ferdinand sighs a breath of relief at this, glad to have beaten his dad home from work for once and escape his constant chastising.

A quick glance towards his watch tells him he even has time for a nap before his horse riding lessons later that night.

Ferdinand makes his way up the long white staircase - passing the pictures of family members on the walls that have been hung by maids because his father _never _would have thought to hang them on his own. His bedroom is at the end of the hallway which he makes his way towards, shoes clicking on the dark wood flooring as he enters his room and throws his bag on the floor. His shoes are the next to be kicked off, haphazardly throwing them to the ground before he falls backwards onto his blue and white checkered sheets and light grey throw rugs. 

At least a _few_ moments pass by before the feeling of shoes not-so-neatly placed by the wall and a bag with books scattered out of becomes unbearable, and he tries ever so hard to ignore the nagging feeling but gives in eventually, promptly pulling himself back out of bed to fix the mess.

Maybe it’s psychological - Ferdinand thinks as he places his shoes beside the door where they line up with the other pairs - that he feels that he has to keep his room tidy. Maybe it’s about wanting to prove something, like his worth to the family.

He had grown up with his dad acting the opposite of how someone who had a royal history linked to their name should. And seeing that, and how arrogant and slothful his dad was, made him want to do the opposite.

It’s not that he doesn’t like the satisfaction of a clean room though, the way it looks presentable at any given time - like he could bring anyone inside and they would be impressed.

It’s just that maybe he gets a bit too obsessive with it sometimes.

Maybe he just wants to prove that he’s that different from his father.

That he’s _good_.

That not all rich people have maids to do their work. That he can cook for himself when he needs too, he can clean a toilet or a shower, or mop the floors.

Still, it feels better to have his bag on it’s spot on the chair under the window, his homework in a pile next to his neatly laid out pens and pencils. The books that had fallen from his school bag now placed alphabetically into his large bookshelf that was decorated with various horse riding trophies and expensive looking horse figurines. 

Much better.

This time when he lays on his bed he kicks his sheets down until he’s able to pull them over his legs, and stares up at the ceiling, letting his mind zone out to the events of the day.

Unfortunately for him, the events that come to mind are that of meeting Hubert and Edelgard at the shops.

His cheeks still dark with embarrassment at the memories of him foolishly trying to impress them. Huberts “We know,” still stings in his chest and Ferdinand hopes he managed to brush it off with enough smile that his embarrassment, or discomfort, couldn’t be sensed.

Hubert’s unamused face feels burnt into his retina - that, along with the hatred that Hubert seems to hold for him, reasons of which Ferdinand simply can’t understand. There was a point where they had almost been friends, but it was like Hubert switched over from liking to hating him one day to the next.

He heaves a deep sigh as he stares towards the ceiling. Everything in his body feels exhausted from just a single day at school and his eyes are so tired that he allows them to slip closed, breaths getting deeper and longer.

Yet his sleep is interrupted by the clicking of the front door, a noise he had long ago learned to recognise. He hears footsteps, and immediately he can tell that his father is home.

The steps are heavy and continue down the hallway into the kitchen, which Ferdinand lets out a breath of relief to - quite thankful his father wasn’t coming to hound him yet. Ferdinand _would _say that he doesn’t dislike his father, but he finds that reasons as to why he doesn’t are harder to come by each day. 

For one reason, his father’s main topic of conversation and obsession at the moment was prom, and who Ferdinand would be taking to said prom. It’s almost as if his father expected him to get married and have a baby with whoever he would be taking!

His father’s first choice for Ferdinand to take would be Edelgard of course.

Yet Ferdinand grimaces at the thought, because as nice as she was a competitor to him she wasn’t his type. No, his type was more along the lines of tall, dark, and _male_ (something Ferdinand was struggling to come to terms to).

His cheeks burn as his mind immediately dragged itself back into the depths of gay-hell, and he hates himself for the way that it seemed to be the only thing he could think about recently. Especially now after the summer break, the way his crush had turned from a kid into a _man_, with strong cheekbones and broad shoulders and dark brooding eyes.

Arousal immediately flowed to Ferdinand’s groin and he felt unable to stop the disgust he held for himself from following it. He was lusting after someone he couldn’t have, which was so morally wrong and crossed any and all boundaries he held as someone with royal blood. These feelings would have existed even if the object of his affection wasn’t male.

For it felt wrong as this someone couldn’t even look him straight in his eyes, and had made themselves _very_ clear that they wanted nothing to do with Ferdinand ever.

This someone who thought he was an idiot -- an annoyance, a selfish kid.

Yet perhaps they were right, perhaps Ferdinand was just a selfish kid. Someone who would continue to be selfish because his feelings were too strong and as much as he might convince himself that he would get over it during nights when he would lay awake for hours, he knew that as soon as he saw him all rational thoughts would disappear. All he wanted was to run away with this person, to hold that hand which would completly envelope his own, to be wrapped up tightly in a pair of strong arms- To be kissed and hugged and cup his sharp jaw in his palms and press a kiss to his too-pointy nose.

The guilt only continued from those thoughts, because as much as he tried to convince himself it was okay to love someone of the same sex and as much as Dorothea tried to convince him that “love is love” through her myspace posts, he couldn’t help but feel so completely wrong about fancying another boy.

His father was depending on him to get married one day and have children to continue the family line, it wouldn’t be right for someone like him to fall in love with a boy. Maybe other people could do it, but him? No.

The sad trail of thoughts immediately killed any remaining traces of Ferdinand’s erection, replacing it with a heavy sadness and pit of self-hate deep in his heart.

So what does he do to cheer himself up? He does what any normal eighteen year old living in 2008 does. He pulls himself out of bed and turns on his little CD player, pressing play on “Feel Better Ferdie” mixtape Dorothea made for him, and then messages his best friend. 

_‘You Belong with Me’ _by _Taylor Swift_ comes on first.

Ferdinand logs onto MSN as the song plays in the background, humming along to it softly “all-hmm along, so why can’t you see-ee-ee, you belong with me-e-e-mmm.. Hmm..” as he scrolls down the list of names of people he never spoke to, eyes idly glancing at Huberts new status change;

**_ cemetaryxdrive _**✞ But we never stood a chance, And I'm not sure if it matters ✞

He reads it over more times than deemed necessary, thinking too deeply about the words written there and gnawing at his poor bottom lip. And maybe it’s the song playing that has an influence on his mood, but he wonders vaguely if the words in Hubert’s bio have anything to do with him.

He pulls his eyes away Hubert’s name eventually, ignoring that their chat together is empty, before clicking onto Dorothea’s name.

**_irl_disneyprincess_** 🌹 a dream is a wish your heart makes 🌹

Ferdinand wastes not another second as he types out his message and presses send, knowing in the back of his head he will get chided for his concern, but it’s too much at the forefront of his mind for him to do anything about.

< **_equineboy _**is now **_online >_**

**_equineboy _**_says**: **_what do you think huberts new status means?

The reply is almost instant.

**_irl_disneyprincess_** _says_: they r song lyrics xD xD  
**_equineboy _**_says: _oh lol  
**_irl_disneyprincess_** _says_: fall out boy :P <3

Well now he just feels stupid.  
  
Still, there’s a part of him that is glad that it _is_ just some song lyrics and not something more serious. He kicks back from the table, spinning around in his chair a few times as Taylor Swift’s magical voice warms his heart and makes all the ache go away.

“All this time how could you not kno-ooww, babe-e-e...” he hums to the music, feeling strangely akin to the music playing and not liking how it represents everything he’s currently feeling.

_Huh, that must be why everyone is so obsessed with it._

A voice calling from downstairs startles him enough that he almost falls off his chair, and a quick glance to the clock tells him that it’s time to leave for training. 

\--

The highschool bell rings to signify the start of lunch, and suddenly the halls are filled with the madness of students rushing to the lunch hall. Ferdinand is one of those students, squeezing through groups of teens shoving books into their lockers, gossiping about people in their classes or who they’re seated next to.

A group of girls are huddled around a locker chatting, one of the girls which Ferdinand recognises to be Hilda with her unmissable bright pink ponytails and her sharp acrylic nails. She almost looks like how an antagonist would look in one of Taylor Swifts music videos (Ferdinand notes - because he’s a fan now.)

“Did you see Annette and Dedue today?” One says, another piping in to answer with excitement; “I heard that he has a crush on her.” The three nod, Hilda just continues to chew her gum before the first replies with a look of faked-concern on her face, “I wonder how Mercedes feels about that.”

The group nods and hums as Ferdinand continues walking down the corridor, just barely stepping back in time before an art-nerd he knows as Ignatz is being shoved up against the lockers in front of him by a bully.

Yet as quickly as he was being shoved against the locker, his savior Raphael - a popular Quarterback in the Golden Deer’s football team - steps forwards, only needing to clear his throat before the bully runs away. As if Raphael would ever hurt someone anyway, a gentle giant, but for someone who doesn’t know him at all, Ferdinand supposes his big statue would be enough to put fear into anyone he crossed him.

He side steps around the two, finally spotting his friend at the end of the corridor and raising a hand in a wave as a smile grows on his face.

“Ferdie!” Dorothea greets, pulling him through the crowd and continuing to drag him down the hallway. Ferdinand doesn’t even have time to get two words in before she continues talking. “Claude’s going to be throwing a party for the seniors - it’s this weekend - you gotta come!”

Ferdinand pulls a face, about to tell her that no - he will not be attending a party full of drunk teens that he’s not even friends with, when something she says stops him dead in his tracks. So dead in his tracks in fact, that the people walking behind him snap at Ferdinand for stopping before shoving roughly past him.

“Hello?!” Dorothea waves a hand in front of Ferdinands face until he blinks and comes to again, “I said Edelgard and Hubert are going to be there.” Dorothea repeats, meeting excited eyes with Ferdinand.

Ferdinand coughs to hide a giddy-sort-of laugh he makes, “Right.” He replies, continuing on walking and trying to ignore Dorothea’s grin and how light his feet feel under him. “Cool, um. Yeah, cool, I might check it out then.”

It was so ridiculously obvious why he changed his mind, but he’s glad for his friend that even if she notices (and she does) - nothing is said about it.

They continue into the lunch hall, falling into the mandatory lunch-food-line together before Dorothea starts talking again. Ferdinand doesn’t listen, he has her voice tuned out for the mean time for his thoughts are too filled with the stupid promise he made to himself he wouldn’t go stalking Hubert, but how now he is doing exactly that by going to this party.

Idiot.

He and Dorothea take a seat at a table with some of the other art, drama and dance students, consisting of Bernadetta who huddled over on herself -- sketching, and Ignatz who now has a bruise in a lovely shade of bluey green over one of his eyes, munching on an apple while Annette presses ice to his swelling face.

Ferdinand vaguely wonders how his life got him to the point of sitting with the weird art kids.

Still, he looks around and thinks that none of the other groups quite match him either.

The dining hall is separated into different personality types for the most part, you have the popular kids - Claude and Hilda - basically the king and queen of the school, sitting with Lorenz who isn’t all that popular but seems to hang around them anyway - Ferdinand just assumes he bought his way there.

Then there’s the jock table with Dimitri who is not only the head of the Blue Lions but the lead player in their football team. His best friends are there too, Sylvain who is another football star and Felix who absolutely does not belong on the table. Hilda, Leonie, Dedue and Raphael also join them on the jocks table, all stars in their own fields. The last member of their table chats with them too, Casper - who fills his time playing every and any sport he can manage.

Another table consists of the strays - or the nomads. Those who simply come to the lunch hall to eat. Linhardt, who is currently napping on the table, Marianne who is reading and Petra who is trying to explain something to the both of them as they don’t pay attention.

Beside them is a table of the Bible kids - Mercedes who is their leader and also the owner of a church group who does bible reading, and then Ashe and Marianne. There’s a constant shifting between these two tables, as most of the nomads end up moving into the bible group as soon as Mercedes starts speaking to them.

And then finally, Ferdinand’s eyes round across to the goth kids, heart racing. Hubert and Edelgard sit there, and - well, it speaks for itself doesn’t it.

“So, Annette, are you and Mercedes going out?” Dorothea chimes and it brings Ferdinand reeling back to the present, glancing up with a hazy look towards Annette - who Dorothea was referring to.

Annette jumps at the sudden question, accidentally shoving the ice-pack she had been resting on Ignatz’s face for him, into his eye. He whimpers in response, and Annette grimaces and says a small apology before turning to Dorothea.

“No! Um. No, I actually have feelings for someone else-.” She trails, cheeks pink. Ferdinand can’t tell if she’s lying or not, Annette had always been so close to Mercedes.

“Oh, that’s a pity.” Dorothea says back, and Ferdinand goes to fade out the conversation again before Dorothea speaks up once more, saying something that pikes his interest a little too much. “I was thinking of creating a Gay Straight Alliance at our school. It would have been so nice to have a gay couple in it.”

And Ferdinand can’t help but feel his cheeks heat up as if this is a direct hit on him, damn Dorothea that sly fox.

Annette laughs back, obviously very embarrassed about it - “Ohh, ahh, haha, um. Goodluck!” She gives a small awkward smile, obviously wanting to will the conversation away from herself.

Ferdinand thinks thats the end of the topic, and that he’s escaped the horror but Dorothea turns to him - eyes bright and twinkling. “Ferdinand. You don’t happen to know any gay students in the school do you?”

And he splutters out a; “No- I-,” replying too quickly and causing his voice to break and sound like a prepubescent kid. He goes to clear it- only ending up choking on his own saliva and bursting into a fit of coughs until a water bottle is thrusted towards him and half the cafeteria is staring. Finally, he stops almost dying as he takes a gulp from the water so he’s able to reply, albeit with a wheezy tone to his voice. “I don’t. I have to go now.” He gets up quickly, bumping the table with his knee and feeling the pain blossom from it, but forcing himself to ignore it as he grabs his bag and rushes off to the toilets to hide in his shame for the rest of the day.

The table is silent as everyone looks up to watch him limp off, even Bernadetta who also pipes up in a small voice. “I think **_he_** might be the gay he knows”

Dorothea nods, marking something off in her notepad. “Yes, Bernie. I think you just might be right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another really big shout out to my friends for helping me, especially @moxagita who i couldn't have done this without <3 <3 
> 
> I have a twitter account if anyone is interested in following, my account is @jinxed_it and I follow most people back because I need that good ferdinand x hubert (furbie. their ship name is furbie please) content.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed the chapter, and are looking forwards to more. Please leave me some kudos and comments with any suggestions or ideas or things you liked!!


	3. Numb

The lunch hall stares as Ferdinand chokes loudly on something, grabbing his bag from under the table and half tripping on his own legs as he hurries out of the room. Chatter resumes practically immediately in the hall after he leaves and no one is too concerned by the events. The Jocks beside their table pick up conversation about muscles, led by Leonie who is currently flexing to the rest of the group.

However, Edelgards thoughts are elsewhere, and she can't help but think about what had sent Ferdinand running so fast.

"I wonder what that was all about." 

Edelgard gets no response and looks up to send Hubert a glare, only to find that he's staring in the direction of where Ferdinand had limped out the hallway.

Oh, for crying out loud.

She reaches her leg out under the table to give the fool a kick straight into his leg, the tip of her studded boots connecting directly with the middle of Hubert's shin.

His face contorts with pain and he turns to glare at her, dark eyebrows pulling into a knot of pain, "what was that for!" He hisses, reaching down to rub at his leg, and Edelgard watches his light grey eyes flick towards the door again.

"You were staring- you're _ still _ staring! Don't make me boot you again. Because I will."

Hubert gives in with a sigh and turns his big lanky body towards Edelgard, grabbing his fork and stabbing it into his lunch with too much anger than what was necessary for the poor potatoes on his plate.

"You're real moody today, Hubert." Edelgard says, because she knows she has the right to pick on him after his ridiculous comment the other day on her family.

"I'm not moody." The Moody boy replies, "I'm just-"

"Temperamental?" Edelgard suggests, placing a stick of carrot into her mouth and biting down on it, raising her eyebrows at Hubert.

"No. I'm just curious of what has gotten into the fool to make him run out of the room like that." Huberts grip is tightening on his little plastic knife and fork as he grits out the words.

"Ha, that's funny - 'cause it um, it sure sounds a lot like you're concerned about him there - Hubert."

Hubert scowls and stands up, rattling the table as he does and grabbing his bag roughly from the ground.

"I don't have time to deal with this shit." He says, starting to walk off from Edelgard in a huff.

She calls out after him with a grin plastered across her face; "it's okay to show your true feelings Hubie!" And Hubert only turns around to give her the finger before leaving the room.

She sits back down, still laughing to herself and picking at her food again, half way through eating another carrot stick when someone approaches - _ great _.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” The voice says, and Edelgard looks up quickly for she doesn’t recognise anyone who sounds like that and oh-.

Oh.

They were _ cute _.

They had chin length hair that was a dark blue colour and looked absolutely so soft -- and a fringe that covered their eyes slightly which Edelgard couldn’t help but notice to also be a beautiful blue colour. She could already feel her heart throbbing in her chest from just looking at this stranger.

Oh dear, she was in trouble.

Edelgard’s cheek grow crimson and she nods her head slightly - gesturing to an empty seat, “go ahead-” she finds the words and the carrot stuck in her throat, and has to clear it before she can talk again. “I’m Edelgard.” She introduces, “I’ve.. not seen you around here before.”

This person laughs, and it’s beautiful, and oh _ god _, it already feels like she’s messing everything up.

“Byleth.” They introduce themselves, “My father and arrived late.. So I missed my first day yesterday. We moved here from England.” They explain and Edgegard nods, feeling completely drawn into every word they had to say.

“Well, make yourself welcome at this table.” She smiles, and is immediately heart struck to find that Byleth is sharing the same smile.

Maybe this year wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

Huberts basically fuming as he walks down the hallway, fumbling around with his black iPod to get the correct song on, shoving his headphones into his ears and finally feeling a wave of calm wash over him as he presses play on his favourite song for this type of occasion. His shoulders sink slightly and he tunes out the world as Numb by Lincoln Park blasts through his headphones at high volume.

Some people might say it's weird that such loud music makes him feel calm, but it just works. Whenever Hubert feels that ongoing tightness in his chest or the building up inside himself like an electric current ready to zap - the music cuts through it.

It helps him focus in a place where calm music would only make him more frustrated. It helps lift the heavy feeling in his stomach.

And what a heavy feeling it was, and though he knows it’s in good nature for his friend to make fun of his moody-ness currently he can’t help but feel attacked by it. She has no idea what he’s been feeling all day, the argument he got into with his dad the previous night and the slap he earned across his cheek from it. A slap that didn’t hurt nearly as much as the words that came previously, words about his music and fashion tastes and how only a certain type of person would dress like that. Hubert can’t even stand to repeat the slurs he was called in his head.

Even that didn’t bother him, it wasn’t until his father started to drag Edelgard into the insults that Hubert could feel his chest welling up and his anger rising.

Still, the music pounding in his ears helped relieve the stress. He could feel it fading away, slowly but surely. 

It would have worked too, if not for Ferdinand who rounded the corner and crashed into him just as the chorus started to play.

Hubert's iPod crashes to the floor and he doesn't even have enough time to pick it up before Ferdinand is reaching down to grab it - looking very panicked when he does and holding it out for Hubert to snatch back.

"Watch where you're going." Hubert hisses, and Ferdinand looks too sad for Hubert to want to yell at him more. Infact when Ferdinand does reply he just sounds sort of pathetic, and it just pisses him off more.

"Sorry," Ferdinand finally says, looking like he wants to add to that. Hubert’s eyes squint slightly and he almost tells Ferdinand to spit it out.

Their gazes linger on each other a bit and Hubert can see Ferdinand swallow like his mouth is dry, before Hubert (with an over dramatic eye roll) turns around and starts to walk off again, ready to zone out with his music. Yet, as his bad luck would have it, as he goes to place an earbud back in his ear Ferdinand finally decides to speak up.

"Did you follow me?" There's something hopeful about his tone which rubs Hubert the complete wrong way and he scowls. _ Again. _

"No."

There's a long pause but Hubert knows there's more coming from how he feels the air thicken between the two of them. It's that feeling of electricity he felt in the mall all over again. He’s still facing the opposite way from Ferdinand and he’s chewing on the inside of his lip. 

This isn’t the good kind of electricity feeling.

"Did Edelgard make you come find me?" Now when Ferdinand speaks, there's almost a tone of snark to his voice - whether Ferdinand means it or not Hubert doesn’t know - but it’s something that sounds ever so spiteful.

Hubert turns around - breaths heavy, because he has a feeling that he knows what's coming next. He _ knows _ he should just walk away - for he doesn't have the mental strength at this moment to deal with Ferdinand, but he doesn't. He sticks his ground, and tilts his nose up a bit.

"What is that supposed to mean?" And whatever tone his own voice was in must have just emphasized on Ferdinand’s mood because the Aegir’s tone seems to be even more spiteful when he replies.

"I thought she was making you check on me - you follow her around like a pet and jump at her every suggestion, it would hardly be surprising."

Hubert reaches forwards in a split second to fist his hands in Ferdinands stupid jacket and shove him roughly against the locker. It makes a heavy, echoing clang around the hall - along with the clatter of Ferdinand’s books spilling from his bag and falling across the floor. His orange gaze is about as angry as Hubert had ever seen it before - he was almost curious as to what had gotten Ferdinand in such a mood.

Sure he was always a posh prick but he had never so _ cruel _ .

All concern or curiosity vanished as the tool opens his mouth again, gaze piercing into Hubert's; "As a matter of fact, I don't think I've ever seen you think for yourself." 

Hubert feels iron in his mouth from how hard he's biting down on the inside of his cheek, and his bottom lip quivers out of pure hatred for the little rat in front of him. He presses Ferdinand harder back into the locker - hoping that the metal handle was shoving uncomfortably into his spine and it was exceedingly more difficult for him to breathe as Hubert lifts him from the ground.

Hubert’s voice is rough, and angry, and his knuckles are white as he holds onto Ferdinand’s stupid polo shirt and varsity jacket; "does the river of filth pouring out of your mouth never stop flowing." It's not a question, and Hubert feels so sick he can't even be bothered to look at Ferdinand anymore; so he just let's go and Ferdinand drops to the ground onto his ass.

Hubert can't even tell if Ferdinand feels guilty, because Hubert already walking away.

Yet the idiot doesn't take the chance to shut his mouth because Hubert hears from behind him, and it sounds like Ferdinand is half way through a pathetic sob when he speaks-

"She's the one who should be following you. Her dad is in debt to yours--"

And before he can even tell what's happening, only seeing red, Ferdinand is being thrown back against the lockers from the force of Hubert's fist coming down against the side of his face- leaving a nasty bruise and a blood nose in its wake.

And as quickly as he does, he starts walking away - feeling stupid as his hand hurts from where it connected with Ferdinands face. It feels wrong, - like he feels like he's stooped as low as his own father when he goes to wipe the splatters of blood from his knuckles off on his pants. Like he’s just another heir, just another daddy’s boy.

It's dirty, and sick, and he hates Ferdinand all the more for pulling that reaction out of him.

He can feel the anxiety and the anger coil in his belly again like a snake, rising up in his throat and in his ears and his fingers until everything becomes too much - like he's about to explode. 

Even the way his shoes click on the floor and his jacket brushes against his shirt when he moves his arms feels like nails on a chalkboard or the sliding of two plates against each other.

There are voices in the hallways and Hubert can’t even tell if their real or if they’re just his mind playing tricks on him like the bugs that he can _ feel _crawling under his skin.

Huberts breaths start to get shorter and he looks around wildly, thankfully spotting the boys toilets which he stumbles over to, shoving the door open. A small amount of the anxious feeling disaperates as he slams the door shut behind him and sinks to the floor in front of it, breaths coming in even shorter gasps as he cradles his head in his hands, feeling his world spin.

It feels like hours have passed when he feels like he is alive again. 

_ In for four. _   
Hold for seven.  
Out for eight.

It’s the soft knocking on the door behind him to what makes him come to, sucking in a slow breath and letting it out his nose. 

_ In for four. _   
Hold for seven.  
Out for eight.

Most of the anxious feeling has faded, he realises slowly - but he still can’t think straight or be certain of the amount of time passed. 

In for four.  
Hold for seven.  
Out for eight.

He blinks a few times more, trying hard to remember but feeling little to no recollection of the past time he spent there on the dirty bathroom floor. It could have been hours - or it could have been ten minutes. His muscles feel stiff and slow and he carefully unfolds his fists, noticing the little crescent moon cuts in his skin from his nails.

_ In for four. _ _  
_ _ Hold for seven. _   
Out for eight.

Hubert takes his final set of breaths, slow and shaky but working because it feels clearer and easier to breathe than what it had felt before. For that he’s thankful, as it seems like the worst of the anxiety attack has passed.

The knocking on the door continues like a dull throb at the back of his head and he becomes painfully aware he’s been taking up an entire cubicle of toilets during this time. Another few moments pass and Hubert manages to shuffle his way to the side of the room, enough for the door to be pushed open, letting whoever was there inside.

He’s surprised when the person hurries inside and immediately wraps their small arms around him, almost collapsing on him.

_ Edelgard. _

Not only does he recognise her face but her perfume surrounds him, calms him. Hubert allows his head to drop onto her shoulder, the tightness of her arms squeezing around him just the right amount of comforting.

"I'm sorry-" She mumbles, and her voice is just a tad panicked. Hubert shakes his head and pulls himself back to meet her eyes, noticing hers are filling with a guilty gaze as she looks at him. Hubert doesn’t speak back, he doesn’t think he has it in him yet too - and he’s glad Edelgard seems to understand this for she just sits beside him on the dirty floor and rests her head on his shoulder.

At least another ten minutes pass before Hubert feels able to speak, gently lacing their fingers together on the floor.

"You couldn't have known I wasn't feeling… _ well _.. today" He struggles on the word ‘well.’ It’s difficult for him to admit that he can feel weak some days too.

Edelgard sniffles slightly, turning to him to reply with a sort of grim laugh in her voice, "some best friend I am,”

Yet Hubert laughs softly - fondly, despite it all, and Edelgard has to blink to make sure she’s seeing him correctly as Hubert speaks; "you _ are, _ " and Edelgard’s so surprised at the sudden affection her mouth drops open ready to question him when he cuts her off again- "are, my, um, my best friend, I mean."

He chides himself on the fact that it shouldn't be such a struggle to get those words out, but he supposes as someone who was raised from the day dot with no affection from his family it's hard to admit such basic feelings.

Feelings. _ His feelings _. He has feelings?

Edelgard just nods, appreciating the warmth behind the gesture as they fall into a comfortable silence again, even despite being on the floor of the boys bathroom in the middle of the day. The silence is broken again by Edelgards hesitant yet caring voice, "Do you know what.. caused _ it _ this time?"

_ It _, as in the panic attack.

Hubert wets his bottom lip, because _ it _ could have been brought on by any number of reasons. A combination of reasons - things that build up and up and up after an extended period of time.

He supposes there was a tipping point though.

"I think it was the blood on my hand.. Reminded me of-" He trails off because he’s sure Edelgard already knows what it reminded him off. She nods in understanding, reaching back across to his hand to lace their fingers together and bring it close to her face, “you are not your father, Hubert.”

Their gaze holds each other and he nods, possibly not quite believing her entirely yet.

His eyes fade back down to his hand, and he feels ridiculous. Hubert had never resorted to violence before, and now here he was, doing it over a stupid reason. He realises with shame that it wasn’t like what he had said to Edelgard in the car the previous night was any better than what Ferdinand had said to him in the hallway. Hubert lets out a soft breath, before biting on his bottom lip and turning to Edelgard, "did he-" 

_ What? Hubert. What were you going to say? Did he tell on you? Did he get help? Why do you care suddenly? _

His own head is filled with questions and he has to blink hard to get them away, but lucky enough for him Edelgard picks up from where Hubert couldn’t finish his sentence, smile reassuring, "the principal wanted to see you, but Ferdinand he -.. Well, he was quite adamant that it was his mistake.”

_ That even feels worse _. 

The conversation stills again before Edelgard perks up again, voice soft and kind. “You wanna ditch for the rest of the day?”

“You? Ditch?” Hubert scoffs, oh-so-glad for the change of subject, and not sure if he’s laughing at that or the pout that Edelgard pulls. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you ditch before.”

“I’ll show you ditching.” She says in a huff, standing up and brushing her skirt off before exiting the bathroom. Hubert’s lips pull into a small smile, and he grabs his bag and then follows.

\-----

Edelgard and Hubert have a place they like to go to when life gets too much. It’s up a hill, a short walk from a little car bay and amongst some of the tallest, most magnificent pine tree’s Hubert’s ever seen. One of the pine trees in the clearing even has the letters E + H carved into it from when they had first stumbled upon the area when they were young.

They’re heading there now, in Edelgards silver lexus convertible. Their favourite songs are being played loudly over the speakers - Edelgard is singing along loudly one being played now, something Hubert recognises from paramore’s album ‘riot.’ It’s the calmest Hubert’s felt all day and he allows his eyes to drop closed and his mind to zone out until they pull into the parking area.

They climb out of the car, still in silence and Edelgard jumps the road-side fence and starts to lead the way through the little woods area out into the clearing. It’s a circular area where there are no trees, protected from the wind by a few large boulders that glow orange as the afternoon sun hits them. There’s rabbits sitting atop one of them, sunbaking similarly to what Edelgard is doing as she pulls off her black crop top off to reveal the mesh shirt she wears underneath and her lacey black bra. Hubert immediately averts his gaze, even though there’s nothing about it that he finds arousing, and he hears her laugh at the way he purposely looks away.

Light shines through the spaces between trees, covering the ground in a dappled golden light which is what Edelgard lays under, spreading out her arms to lap up any of the warm sunlight. There are pinecones laying amongst the thick, dark green grass which is also scattered with tiny orange and purple flowers, amongst bigger white ones. Hubert picks one of the white ones, holding it up in front of the sun and smiling as a bee starts to buzz around it - only ever interested in the bold and beautiful things in life.

He flicks the flower away, placing his hands back into the grass and staring out over the rolling view of mountains this clearing has, admiring the hills and trees atop them amongst the bright blue skies and puffy white clouds.

The sun shines through a cloud again, and he turns his head to where Edelgard is laying, skin lit up silver from the golden light as the grass kisses her skin.

It’s ridiculously picturesque.

And too tempting to resist, even despite disliking the sun. He tugs his black coat off, folding it into a cushion before laying down beside his friend on the grass- wondering as the light hits his skin if it will start to sparkle like that one guy from those vampire novels that he totally didn’t read.

The grass blades are sharp against his skin, itching him through the holes in the fishnet sleeves and the rips in his skinny jeans. But it’s not uncomfortable. His senses after his panic attack feel dulled and diluted, and it was almost nice to feel the itching, just to feel alive again.

Hubert’s eyes drift closed and he allows his thoughts wander back to the events of today, trying to unravel the pit of guilt he feels in his stomach. Like somehow, he is the one in the wrong in a situation a fool brought upon himself. And then his brows furrow, and something occurs to him -

“How did you know I was in the toilets?” He asks, interrupting the bird song above them and the rustling of the tree leaves in the wind.

“Oh.” Edelgard says, surprised by the sudden question. Hubert begins to grow impatient as she doesn’t continue, about to say something again when finally- “Ferdinand.. He, well, he came and found me.” 

And now Hubert is the surprised one, and he sits up so quickly his head spins, “he found you?”

“Yeah he.. He came and found me in the lunch hall, all panicked and teary.” Edelgard explains, “he said you needed me really badly, and I said ‘Ferdinand you’re bleeding all over my table,’ and he said-” Edelgard does a funny voice when she recites what Ferdinand said to her, “‘it doesn’t matter, please just go find him’”

“And?” Hubert prompts her, not sure why he’s so concerned, Edelgard doesn’t understand why either, and she’s a bit taken aback by Hubert’s urgency, but continues none-the-less.

“Well, I came to find you. But the door wasn’t opening and you weren't listening. So I went to go find Ferdinand _ again _ to ask what the hell was up when I saw him with the principle.”

Hubert is still looking at her, urging her to continue.

“Principle Rhea was really mad - like I said before, but Ferdinand was begging her not to suspend you. I left, again, because they were busy, and that’s when you finally heard me.”

Hubert is silent now and Edelgard rolls onto her side, reaching out to put a comforting hand to his knee. “He was convinced that it was his fault, Hubert. I’ve never seen him that unshakeable about something.”

Hubert nods slowly, laying back down again and placing their hands together, squeezing his fingers around Edelgard’s small hand in a silent gesture of thanks. He gazes up at the clouds, wondering why on earth Ferdinand would want to protect him that much - unless he regrets it? Unless he said it out of anger much like why Hubert had punched him?

His thoughts fade in and out, and in the middle of it all he wonders if Ferdinand is okay, and if his face is alright, and he hopes that it doesn’t bruise too much.

Why he wonders?

He doesn’t know. He can’t even _ begin _ to understand it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> throws even more love at my twitter friends for all the help I can't do this without you both @banana.ge.ge and @moxagita <3 <3
> 
> my twitter is @jinxed_it and I love hearing suggestions or comments about the fic if you don't feel like commenting below!! 
> 
> Something else I've been asked about this is pairing suggestions - and yes, I do take them for the background characters. Just be sure to let me know who you would like to see end up together :3c


	4. I kissed a girl

“Ferdinand, why were you not at school tod- Oh my GOD, what happened to your face?!” Dorothea exclaims suddenly as Ferdinand walks out the front gate, finally close enough for her to catch a glimpse of his poor beaten face. Ferdinand lets out a breathy sort of half-laugh, crossing the pathway to Dorothea who is now leaning over her car, eyes wide and concerned. 

And _ right _ \- of course her sudden concern makes sense. She hadn’t seen Ferdinand before the incident as he had gone straight home after speaking with Edelgard and Principle Rhea, and he hadn’t shown up today. She grimaces in pain as Ferdinand steps closer and the bruises scattered across his eye become clearer, “Ferdie, when you said you were in a fight, I hadn’t thought you meant an _ actual _ fight. I thought you had meant an MSN fight!”

He pulls the car door open, taking a seat in the comfortable leather chair before responding, “Yeah- no, it was an _ actual _ fight.” Ferdinand confirms, mind flashing back to the intensity of which he was thrown against the lockers - causing his back to bruise where the metal handles had been shoved into his spine too. He nods again “definitely an actual fight.”

A soft breath escapes his lips and he leans backwards into the plush seat - tilting his head to the side and grimacing as he was met with his reflection in the rear view mirror. And of course he had seen his face that morning, he had seen his face walking through the hallway to leave- but the patchy colours of the bruise still come as a shock and he can’t help but think _ damn, _ it looks _ bad. _

His poor gorgeous face.

Ferdinand’s right eye was still slightly swollen, covered in a purple and pink bruise that fades to a dark yellow around the edges. His nose, too, had been caught in the swing of Hubert’s fist which had broken it in the middle. It still ached, and was currently covered with a white bandage. 

He sighed, getting sick of looking at himself and purposefully glancing away. Dorothea must have noticed this, because she turns to give him a concerned look, red-lipsticked lips pressed together in a thin line. Ferdinand hadn’t gone into much detail with it when saying why he left school, she must have been curious. 

“So.. you gonna explain what happened?” Dorothea asks slowly, pressing her foot down on the accelerator and starting to drive.

Ferdinand bites on his bottom lip, rolling it between his teeth until it’s plump before finally opening his mouth to speak. Yet the words feel stuck in his throat, lodged there and painful and he hates it. He was meant to be proving that he was better than the rest of his family, better than any other rich slob, but in the end he just ends up proving everyone right, _ proving Hubert right _, that he’s just like every other entitled kid.

“I.. said something wrong.” He finally admits out loud. His voice is soft and he starts to feel bad all over again, like he hadn’t spent the entire night lying on his bed mad at himself for saying what he did. And sure - some might argue that Hubert was in the wrong as much as him but honestly? A broken nose and bruised eye be damned, if he hurt Hubert’s feelings enough to elicit that sort of response from him then the pain was deserved. What he did felt unforgivable. Even if he _ was _ hurt and frustrated with the world. 

“I’m a disgrace.” Ferdinand adds in a whiny voice, sinking into his seat with an over dramatic sigh.

“What are you even going on about?” Dorothea asks, glancing to him as she pulls up at a stop light. “I asked you to explain what happened, not wallow in your own self pity.”

Ferdinand rolls to his side, feeling his eyes tear up again as he thinks about it more, his nose runs but he can’t rub it because he knows it’ll hurt if he touches it. “I hurt someone I care about, hurt him so much that he broke my nose.” He mumbles out pathetically, dragging himself back up in the seat and rubbing his watery eyes roughly. 

“_ Ferdinand _ . Woman up.” _ That wasn’t the response he was expecting. _ “You’re not perfect, as much as you would like to believe you are. You’re also not above making mistakes, it happens.” Dorothea says quite sternly and Ferdinand feels like he’s being told off by his mum. “This is just a mistake.”

“It was just a shit mistake to make.” Ferdinand replies, “Could have handled the situation so much better."

Ferdinand watches Dorothea’s features soften and she takes a deep breath, "Regardless of how shit it was, it’s still a mistake. And for the record, _ he _made a mistake too," she emphasises on the word ‘he’, "It was wrong to use physical violence on you. The situation didn’t call for it, there was no need for him to." 

And Ferdinand shrugs in reply. Because for something he might have agreed on once upon a time, he can't help but think Hubert was within his right to punch him. 

They fall into silence, minus the soft music from the radio, as they drive along the winding road to Claude’s house. The road takes them further into the neighborhood and quickly the streets start to become more elaborate - the pavement begins transitioning from regular road-cement into fancy red bricks while the lamp posts become more ornate. Beside each one is a tall pine tree, glowing from the street lights as the sun goes down behind the hills.

Ferdinand sits up in his seat a bit, eyes widening and mouth dropping open in a small gasp as the expensive looking houses start to roll past. He lets out a breath, falling back into his seat in a mild shock and glancing to Dorothea who has much the same expression he was wearing.

"Right?" She breathes, "_ And _ he has a good relationship with his parents." 

They pull up to the house where the party is taking place - or rather the big black gates in front of the house where the party is taking place. Dorothea shoots an uncertain glance to Ferdinand before shrugging and rolling down her window to lean across to the little voice box, reaching out to press her red nailed finger against the button. 

A few moments pass before the gates creak open and _ slowly _ Dorothea starts to drive forwards, following the spiraling driveway. It’s lined with neatly cut shrubbery and more white lights that shine upwards into the bushes, along with smaller golden strip lights along the edge of the drive path which they slowly come to stop at.

They both look up, and their eyes widen comically at the sight of the house in front of them, because they both knew that Claude’s family was _ rich _ , they just never could have imagined they were _ this _ rich. It’s surprising, as Claude has never flaunted his wealth before - he acts just like anyone else and Ferdinand is suddenly struck with a strong admiration for him.

The house is huge, and lit up with golden lights from the inside that cause the white brick of the exterior to glow. There’s small lights above each of the many large, arched windows as well which light up the front yard with a cozy glow.

Dorothea slowly pulls the car up beside where other various cars are parked in a large circular area drive the house, turning the ignition off. They pause for a few moments, just taking in the ornate hedges and the way they’ve been cut to look like deer, the large steps leading up to the house and the balconies where people stand, dancing to the loud music booming out from the house. 

Dorothea turns to Ferdinand eventually, reaching across the seat to take his hand - squeezing it tightly as if sensing his mood.

“No more sulking, okay? It’s not your fault.”

And Ferdinand rolls his eyes, wondering how she had known he was thinking about it again, but he nods never-the-less, “okay- okay. No more.” 

Dorothea nods and smiles in satisfaction, going through her glove box to grab something as Ferdinand climbs out from the car - not wasting any time in walking to Dorothea’s door and pulling it open for her before she’s able to get it herself. He takes a step away, doing a joking half bow to her which she curtsies back to after climbing out. 

“Madam.” Ferdinand greets, holding out his arm for her. 

Dorothea laughs, “why, thank you sir,” she replies with the same joking tone, locking the car door and then threading her arm through Ferdinand’s and starting to lead them towards the house. The closer they get, the louder the song, Hollaback Girl by Gwen Stefani plays, and the more he starts to recognise people from school dancing to it. Like Petra, in baggy camo pants and a white crop singlet, a matching camo-cap on backwards - who’s doing some complicated looking hip-hop dance on the pavement out the front of the house while others (Casper especially) cheer her on.

Dorothea too, grins and claps as she passes, eyes bright as they hover on Petra. Ferdiand can’t help but notice Dorothea looks beautiful when she smiles, all wine-red lipstick and white teeth, knowing that whomever, man or woman, marries her, will be privileged to do so. 

She wears a black, high necked, sleeveless shirt which is tied up around her neck with a bow at the back. It’s tight fitting and comes to above her belly button to show off her waist, which is where the red short skirt she wears is sitting. Its paired with tall black boots that are heeled, and her hair is pushed behind her ears to show off the big golden hoops she wears.

Ferdinand can’t help but feel like he doesn’t look nearly as nice with his polo shirt and the same red varsity jacket he always wears. Everyone else seemed to have so much _ style _, he just wore the clothes his mum bought him.

His thoughts were interrupted as they reached the stairs and a handsome voice (how could a voice be handsome?) greeted them. “Glad you could both make it!” And funny that Ferdinand had been thinking of style, because in front of him was about one of the most stylish men he knew. 

Claude wore a simple, striped blue and yellow long-sleeve polo with the collar up, that was half - _ oh, so effortlessly _ \- tucked into his denim jeans. He had a matching piece of long yellow material tied around his forehead, with one piece of hair that was tightly braided and beaded - falling over the top of it. The rest of his hair was pulled back into a messy bun at the back of his head. 

One of his hands, bony and long fingered and decorated with silver rings, was lazily holding onto a cup, while the other hand loosely held a cigarette between two fingers that he took a slow drag from. As he moved, a silver bracelet slowly began to slip down his wrist as into his sleeve, and Ferdinand’s eyes followed it - admiring how beautiful and smooth his dark skin was. Claude’s mouth formed into a loose grin, blowing the smoke from pursed lips in Ferdinand’s direction and making Ferdinand’s gaze snap up.

“You done looking?”

Ferdinand forced himself to swallow, managing to nod his head slightly as Claude met his eyes - looking so effortlessly pretty with his golden earing glinting in the light and that stupid strand of braided hair falling in front of his eyes again. 

Golden eyes that looked like they knew _ all _ of Ferdinand’s secrets.

Dorothea also looks like she's noticed this exchange, and goes to open her mouth to question Ferdinand when a certain pink haired girl skips her way over - and thank God she does - to wrap one hand around Claude’s arm. Ferdinand lets out a small sigh of relief, never having been so glad for Hilda's presence before. 

She had her own cup in hand, attached to a wrist that dangled about a dozen or two pink shag bands. She steps up closer to Claude, draping her body - which was fully clad in a pink joggers and a matching jacket, unzipped enough so you could see her white boob-tube - over Claude's shoulders, “Everyone’s waiting for you before they start beer pong, Claude.”

Claude glances back to Dorothea and Ferdinand, still with that ridiculously bright smile spread across his face, “you two want in?” And before Ferdinand could even speak, Dorothea was agreeing - “sounds great!” And the four of them were heading inside, being pulled through crowds of teens in low rise bootleg-jeans and too much denim.

_\--_

Dorothea sends Ferdinand a worried expression as he holds the last king card in his hand, eyes flickering towards the concoction of drinks in the middle of the table, then back down to his card.

“Ferdie, I can do it for you-” Dorothea tries to say but he shakes his head quickly. What sort of sore-loser would he be if he forfeited a game now? 

He lets out a slow breath through his lips, calming his racing heart as he reaches forwards to grab the handle of the big beer cup, pulling it back over to himself and grimacing again as he stares down into the dark greeney-brown mix of alcohol.

A glance around the table tells him it’s going to be strong, because while some people were sipping at glasses of white wine, other had cups of tequila and lemonade, vodka and orange juice and a scary bright green looking cup which Ferdinand recognises to be absinthe with sprite. He wasn’t a heavy drinker, he had hardly drunk in the past, mostly (only) wine at family dinners. It was going to end badly.

Still, Ferdinand picks the cup up and rests it against his lips. He was never one to turn down a challenge, especially not in a crowd full of peers - and especially not when Claude is looking at him with big eyes and a wide smirk. Ferdinand takes one final deep breath, eyes shutting as he starts to swallow the liquid down, the cheering of his name in the background giving him a strong boost of morale.

“What an idiot.” Hubert mumbles from the doorway, watching the fool slam his empty cup back onto the table, legs wobbly as everyone cheers for him and he gets multiple slaps on the back from the various party goers.

“Give him some respect, at least he didn’t wuss out.” Edelgard says from beside Hubert as they watch Ferdinand get dragged off by the others into another room of the house - for more drinking, Hubert supposes. “Come on, let’s go sit and…” she trails off, making a gesture with her hand of smoking a cigarette, and Hubert rolls his eyes back but lets Edelgard drag him off into one of the many lounge rooms of the house.

They finally find a place on the sofa together, amongst a group either already high or still smoking. Ignatz is one of them, currently choking on the smoke from a joint he holds in one hand while his other fist is wrapped tightly around his inhaler.

A girl with pinky-red hair that’s pulled back into a long ponytail is sitting beside Ignatz, saying something encouraging to him as he takes a deep drag of the spliff - she continues patting Ignatz on the knee as he breaths it out slowly, a grin spreading across his face before he bursts into a fit of coughs, and the red haired girl is laughing. Ignatz coughs fade off, and he starts saying something (her name is Anna? Does she even go here?) to which she’s about to reply to when Hubert feels Edelgard nudging his shoulder and passing something across to him.

Everything feels slow when he gets high.

Like he’s caught in a haze, or that someone has pressed the slow motion button on a VCR. 

It’s a nice comparison to how fast his heart was beating the previous day. How panicked he felt. Now everything was smooth and relaxed.

He gazes around the room, almost able to feel the music - like a dull beating at the back of his head and through his veins, to what sounds like a tune he can recognise as ‘I kissed a girl’ by Katy Perry (terrible taste, if you ask him.) Still, he can’t find himself to be truly mad about the song choice as he zones out, letting his eyes focus on the different groups of people around the party as Edelgard, beside him, leans against his shoulder in a similar haze.

One of the groups his eyes do seem to focus on first is one consisting of Petra and Dorothea, dancing together as the song plays it’s chorus, and Dorothea is leaning in to whisper something that makes Petra bat her eyelashes and pull Dorothea in closer to her.

He turns his head away slightly, feeling like what's happening isn't something for him to watch but the way his hair brushes against his nose and the back of his neck feels good - so he does it again until his eyes come into contact with another scene unravelling as the song changes. Or had it already changed?

Claude and Hilda are singing in what appears to be slow motion to Huberts brain - their voices louder than the music playing as they dance together, drinks spilling across the expensive wooden floors as they sway; "she was lookin' kinda dumb with her finger and her thumb in the shape of an L on her forehead!" They're doing the moves the song speaks of as they sing, holding their fingers up to each other's foreheads. The next set of lyrics play, and Hilda begins headbanging, making Claude double over in laughter.

The song fades and Hubert blinks his eyes heavily, opening them slowly again and feeling as if he can’t quite recall how much time has actually passed. Minutes? Hours? He couldn’t tell. He squints at a blurry clock through a doorway that leads to the kitchen, but the hands of the clock look like they’re melting off it as it ticks and it’s rather unhelpful. 

He should mention to Claude that he needs a better clock.

He blinks again a few times because there's something ridiculously bright in his vision that feels like it’s causing a sun spot in his retina, and it takes him a few moments to realise that it’s Ferdinand’s hair. He can hear a smarter voice in his brain telling him to stop staring but Ferdinand’s hair is just so entrancing that his eyes just seem to be stuck in their position. Not only that, but the orange waves just look so soft, the way they roll down his shoulders and shift as he moves - it makes Hubert want to reach out and twist the strands between his fingers. 

Ferdinand looks lonely, and Hubert blames it on the marijuana in his system that he’s suddenly so concerned about Ferdie’s (when did he become Ferdie?) welfare. Hubert watches as Ferdinand stands alone, with a drink in his hand. From what Hubert can tell, Ferdinand is swaying slightly along with the beat of the music (or was that just Huberts brain tricking him?) 

Regardless, Ferdinand looks way too drunk to be _ still _ drinking and Hubert gets the sudden urge to say something. Get up and tell the fool that he should be drinking water now. Hubert almost does make a move to go do it when he stops himself as Claude approaches - his delicate fingers reaching out to stroke along the underside of Ferdinand’s wrist. He can almost hear the light scratching sound it makes, especially as Claude’s hand starts rubbing small circles against Fedinand’s elbow. Hubert’s breath stills, as does everything else in the room - time pausing in his very eyes except for himself, and Claude, and Ferdinand who he can swearleans into the touches, gaze heavy as he looks up to meet Claude’s eyes. 

Hubert almost thinks they’re going to kiss right there, their bodies are certainly close enough for it. The clock in the kitchen is ticking loudly (didn’t it melt?) as Claude steps away, smirk curling across his lips, making a small gesture with his head for Ferdinand to follow then walking off. Ferdinand hesitates, and it’s curious because as he does Hubert’s belly gives a strange twist and he can’t quite place what the feeling is. It’s something that feels like disgust, but disgust for what? He doesn’t know.

By the time he looks up again, Ferdinand is walking around the corner and Huberts gaze can only follow the tips of his long hair until he disappears. Everything else seems to come back into motion, all the sounds rushing into Hubert’s ears and he suddenly feels too claustrophobic.

Ferdinand walks up the steps slowly, holding onto the handrail and just managing to squeeze past Felix and Sylvain who have their tongues as far down each other’s throats as they can. Felix’s hair is loose and threaded through Sylvain’s fingers as he holds and tugs at it, and in Ferdinand’s drunken state he admires how pretty the silky strands of hair are.

How pretty another boy can be.

Like Claude - Claude was very pretty. Claude he was handsome too, with firm shoulders and a strong jaw like Hubert.

Hubert was pretty too, but in a darker, cat-like way that made Ferdinand’s mind swirl like the whites and mint greens in Hubert’s eyes. 

“Ferdie.” A voice calls softly, and Ferdinand glances up, unable to help the heat blossom in his chest as Claude reaches down to take Ferdinand’s hand in his own and help him up the last few steps. He pulls Ferdinand with him, although it feels more like a smooth guide by the hand that moves to rest on the small of Ferdinand’s back. He’s so courteous - even pulling the bedroom door open for Ferdinand to enter first.

Ferdinand turns mid step though as he does, and neither of them are expecting it so they end up stumbling in their drunken haze until they fall down on the bed. 

Claude’s laying over Ferdinand, and Ferdinand giggles, unable to stop himself from thinking how Claude’s so firm in all the places the girl’s he’s kissed in the past are not. 

Claude’s rolls to the side, hair everywhere as he gets comfortable- the bun said hair had been trapped in earlier having come loose and letting more of his short locs down, cascading over the yellow piece of material he still wears around his forehead. Claude’s gorgeous. And apparently as into this as Ferdinand is as he raises a hand to reach up to rub through Ferdinand’s hair slowly, the pads of his fingers dragging against Ferdinand’s scalp, causing goosebumps down run over his arms and heat to coil in his belly. 

Everything feels good. It had been so long since he had lain with someone who treated him like he was something precious and tender. 

He wants to do it back to Claude, but he feels like his arm can no longer move. 

So he speaks instead, because it’s what he’s good at.

“You’re_ really _ pretty.” Ferdinand manages to slur- not really expecting his voice to sound like that- and Claude looks like a ray of sunshine when he smiles back, all golden and bright. 

“You’re not so bad yourself.” Claude says back softly, “But I’m afraid I didn’t realise downstairs, that you’re still really quite drunk-”

Ferdinand cuts him off, “I’m not that drunk.” and to prove it, he meets Claude’s gaze with the firmest look he can muster, “Kiss me.” 

Another amused smile pulls at Claude’s features, but he nods - the hand that was previously in Ferdinand’s hair slowly shifting to cup his cheek and pull him in. Their lips brush, just barely, and Claude speaks again and sends shivers down Ferdinand’s spine, “As you wish,” before he leans in further and presses their lips together. And for some reason takes Ferdinand minutes to realise it, as their mouths - hot and heavy - open against each other, that they’re two boys laying on a bed together kissing.

He’s kissing another boy, and he likes it. 

He’s kissing another boy, and the world isn’t ending. 

He’s kissing another boy and it’s not Hubert.

It’s _ not _Hubert.

“You’re not Hubert.”

Claude pulls back slightly, dark skin lightly dusted with rose-pink. He’s got a smile on his face, and Ferdinand is glad, because he thinks he’s too drunk right now to deal with someone sad. “No, I’m Claude-”

“I need to kiss Hubert.” Ferdinand interrupts him, already starting to scramble off the bed, tripping over himself in his drunken clumsiness.

Claude sits up to watch him, smirking slightly, as if he was only here to find out who Ferdinand’s crush was all along. Ferdinand doesn’t notice this, though, because he’s already out of the room and jogging down the stairs and jogging past Sylvain who has his hand in Felix’s pants now.

And Felix is pretty, of course. But he’s not Hubert.

Hubert, everything was pointing to Hubert. Where Claude was sunshine and hot touches, Hubert was everything else. The cool, dark nights and the stars and the snow -- where was he?! Ferdinand turns a corner, pulling the backdoor open and heading outside in a rush. If only he had turned the other way, for Hubert stood in the kitchen opposite to the back door. 

Hubert’s night was dull, his mind was slow and confused and he didn’t like the way his thoughts would flick back to bright hair and warm eyes. It’s loud inside, and it’s starting to feel like a painful thumping in his brain as the beat of the songs continue and he knows it’s partly because of the weed wearing off. There’s an uproar of cheering and Hubert scowls, watching as Dimitri, in front of him, is being helped onto his hands by Hilda and Casper to do a keg stand. Where was Claude? He had been gone for half an hour already.

He cares little for party games such as these so he brushes past Dedue who is hurrying to get closer to Dimitri and stop him before his adoptive brother chokes and dies.

Instead he pulls open the back door, stepping outside and pausing for a moment to appreciate the silence. It’s peaceful, and the air is crisp and cool. Ashe, Annette and Mercedes are laying on the grass together in the big backyard under the stars, chatting softly amongst themselves.

Huburt takes a seat on one of the plush couches on the veranda, leaning his head against the wall behind him as he feels himself come down from his lazy high. His brain feels a lot clearer out here, the opposite of the madness inside as the chanting of “chug, chug, chug” continues. The sound is faded enough for him to be able to zone it out, letting his ears ring and enjoy the quiet of the night time before-

Was that someone crying?

It sounded like the sobs of someone who had drunk too much.

Hubert got up from his seat, curiosity getting the better of him despite the disgust he felt for whatever_ idiot _ had decided to drink so much that they lost their mind.

He followed the noises, the soft whimpers, turning around a corner to see - oh;

“Ferdinand.” He states plainly. 

"Need to find Hubert," Ferdinand says softly from where he’s sitting, knees tucked under his chin and leaning back against the wall.

"I'm Hubert.” Hubert replies, and he feels stupid. Why did Ferdinand want him?

Yet as he says it, Ferdinand looks up, big teary eyes open wide as he meets Huberts confused gaze, “Hubert!” And he sounds like a drunk teenage girl trying to search for their boyfri-. 

_ Hm. _

He quickly pushes the previous thought from his head, and maybe it’s the guilt he feels from the previous day, but he decides to play along with Ferdinand’s little game. "... yes?"

Ferdinand gets up, and his legs are shaky but he manages to make his way across to Hubert - reaching with sticky fingers to grab onto his arm to try and stop himself from toppling over. And it’s pathetically cute, in a baby animal sort of way. Like when a kitten is learning to walk.

Ferdinand looks up at him like he wants to say something more but whatever little brain power he has left, has suddenly kicked in. So he just stands there, tears dripping down his soft cheeks that are dusted with freckles that Hubert only just notices now. His nose is soft too, and rounded at the end - pink from either the cold or the alcohol.

It’s only when Ferdinand shifts, falling slightly against Hubert’s chest and breaking their eye contact, does Hubert realise how long they’ve been staring at each other. 

“I’m sorry-” Ferdinand mumbles, pulling back and opening his mouth as if to expand on what he’s sorry for, but what ends up with Ferdinand vomiting over Huberts and his own shirt.

Oh. Disgusting. 

Huberts nose wrinkles slightly, and he if it were any other time he would walk away and go home, but the look on Fedinand’s crumpling face makes him hesitate for he looks so pitiful and sad - like his entire world has just blown up right there.

The warm sick is soaking into his shirt slowly and he _ wishes _ he would just turn around and walk away, but he doesn’t, something in his head telling him it would be just too mean even for _ him _ to do that.

For however gross he feels right now, Ferdinand must be feeling a thousand times worse. And maybe it’s the remnants of weed to blame that are making him care less. Or maybe it was the look he was met with earlier from Ferdinand that makes him decide silently to stay and help. 

Or maybe, worse than all that, he finds he is beginning to care about Ferdinand? 

No. Couldn’t be.

“I’m sorry-” Ferdinand’s voice is croaky when he speaks finally, a choked up sob following the words. He rubs his face with his arm, gaze meeting Hubert’s with cloudy golden eyes - blinking and causing big tear drops to roll down his cheek and drip off his nose as he bows his head again. He looks so ridiculously hopeless that Hubert wonders what the world would think if they saw the heir of the Aegir name in a shape like this.

“Its okay.” Hubert’s voice is more gentle than he had realised when he speaks, and Ferdinand sniffles again - still just standing there like a drunk fool. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” And he expects, when he turns, for Ferdinand to follow- but he doesn’t, so Hubert reaches out to grab him by the wrist to pull him along, back into the house and past Dimitri who was now on the floor drunk, before leading the way up the stairs.

Ferdinand is still a sniffling mess as he follows, his own hand grabbing at Hubert’s to hold on for dear life as he follows. Hubert can feel his sticky, alcohol coated fingers wrap around his wrist and he grimaces at the feeling, forcing it out of his mind.

He gets to the bathroom, giving the door a shove open- features wrinkling upon finding Felix and Sylvain half naked and practically grinding each other into the wall. Hubert doesn’t waste any time in barking an order at them to scram as he tugs Ferdinand inside then closes the door after the pair leave.

There’s a soft thump from behind him and Hubert turns around startled - expecting Ferdinand to have fallen. But his shoulders sink quickly in relief as he realises it was just Ferdinand taking a seat on the cool floor, resting his face against the toilet lid and letting his eyes slip closed.

Hubert watches for a few more moments, letting his eyes wander a bit. He had never seen Ferdinand this close up before - and it may just be the alcohol but he seemed like such a different person. It wasn’t the annoying prep boy in front of him now, it wasn’t the Aegir heir either. 

No, this was just Ferdinand. Drunken Ferdinand, but more himself than he had ever seen before.

He turns around, forcing his gaze away from the sleeping drunk and turning the hot tap on at the sink. He takes a deep breath, tugging his hoodie - which thankfully hadn’t been ruined - off and placing it on the counter, before hooking his fingers under his tightly fitted - and now ruined - metallica shirt and pulling it off - dumping it and a handful of hand soap into the water.

He turns to Ferdinand now, taking a few steps closer - unsure how to proceed so he just ends up kneeling slightly in front of him - making a gesture with his hand that Ferdinand doesn’t understand, to remove his shirt. Soon enough, it’s followed by a soft ‘tsk,’ and he tries again “come on. Shirt off, it’s… disgusting.” Ferdinand hardly moves and Hubert sighs, finally giving up and leaning in to gently pull Ferdinand’s polo shirt off himself (where had his jacket gone?) standing up and crumpling the shirt into a ball, adding it to the sink before turning the hot water off. 

He’s wringing the soaked, _ but cleaner, _ material out when he hears Ferdinand’s soft sniffling and shivering. Hubert turns, finding that Ferdinand is hugging himself, his arms - that were more muscular than what Hubert had ever thought, were taut as he held himself, goosebumps littering his pale skin. Hubert pretends _ quickly _that he doesn’t notice as he grabs his hoodie, not looking at Ferdinand as he tosses it back to him.

The sniffles quiet down as Ferdinand wraps himself in the oversized jumper, burying his nose into the soft material and mumbling into it, “this’s’ a nice Hubert..” 

Hubert pretends he doesn’t hear that either, or any of the mumbles to follow as he lays the shirts out on the counter to dry. Once satisfied, he turns and finally pulls Ferdinand up from the ground - patience fading fast - he grunts at the sudden weight as Ferdinand leans against Hubert, forcing him to wrap an arm around Ferdinands (again, surprisingly built) waist and half drag, half carry him to the spare bedroom across the hall. 

He gets Ferdinand on the bed, thankful that the drunk half clambers himself onto it, tucking the pillow under his head already and closing his eyes, chest starting to rise and fall with each deep breath he takes - and it makes Hubert bite his lip. Because this is when he should leave, Ferdinand was fine, he was safe. And God - it was just Ferdinand, the same annoying Ferdinand that Hubert complained about every other day - but Hubert’s gaze lingers on the patchy bruise over his eye and the white bandage over Ferdinand’s poor nose - and he knows it’s the right thing to do. At least he will sleep well at night knowing he’s made up for any and _ all _ current or future mistakes made where Ferdinand was concerned. 

Ferdinand nuzzles into the jacket again, and Hubert watches in silence. Surely it’s just the drunk thoughts of a sad teen that are making him this affectionate. Because he knows Ferdinand has always had a level of obsession for Edelgard and himself, but it was because he was a self-centered rich snob that couldn’t _ possibly _ bare to miss out on something. Not even a friendship. There’s no way Ferdinand could have _ actually _ wanted Hubert that much, right?

There’s no way that Ferdinand’s feelings stem any further than doing it for attention or popularity.

Right?

The boy on the bed whines again, and Hubert blinks himself back into real life, stepping forwards to carefully remove Ferdinand’s shoes and place them on the ground beside the bed, tugging the covers free and draping them across Ferdinand’s body that looks ever so small in such a big bed. 

He raises his fingers to his nose, pinching the bridge of it as more unwanted thoughts run through his mind, thoughts wavering on questions like what if he _ has _ been wrong this entire time? What if Ferdinand had just needed a friend? 

_ No. _ No, _ \- Enough of that now, Hubert. _

He glances back at the bed once more, where Ferdinand has now seemed to have fallen asleep, mouth hanging open as soft snores leave it, and Hubert waits a few more moments before finally forcing himself to leave - closing the door behind him with a soft click and making his way back down the stairs. 

The party has calmed down a lot by the time he’s back down, and he glances around in an attempt to locate Ferdinand’s bushy purple haired friend. He doesn’t spot her in the kitchen, instead noticing Dimitri leaning over the bin with Dedue rubbing circles into his back. She’s not out the back either, where Casper and Linhardt are napping on top of each other on the little couch.

He turns around, walking further into the house - past Hilda who is laying on her back with her legs up against the wall and Ignatz who is holding onto a chair leg and sobbing in distress from whatever trip he’s still having. Finally, though, Hubert notices Dorothea - stuffing food into her mouth while Edelgard and Petra rest on her chest, asleep.

She spots him too, turning her head his way, “where’s your shirt gone, Hubie?” She asks with a slow grin on her face. 

“Ferdinand threw up on me. He’s asleep in a bed upstairs now, will need panadol in the morning.” He says - trying to cut as straight to the point as he can because he knows that Dorothea is one of those annoying types who reads too deeply into things. 

Seems he’s not in luck, for her smirk grows, “he was sick on you, and then you put him to bed?”

“Indeed.” He meets her eyes, and she meets his back with not a shred of fear for him. It pisses him off.

Finally though, she drops the subject and nods. “Okay. Hubert. I’ll make sure he gets that in the morning.” And Hubert doesn’t trust the look in her eyes - for it looks oddly similar to the face Edelgard pulls. 

His gaze wavers on her face still and he wants to pry further, but he’s tired - and bed seems more appealing then pestering Dorothea right now, so he dips his head at her and leaves the room. He makes his way through the house, thinking it looks rather like a war zone - especially as he pushes Ingrid’s sleeping body out the way from the front door when he exits.

The night is cool on his chest, and Hubert wastes no time in finding his black motorbike amongst the cars, climbing on and pulling his helmet over his head - thinking he probably shouldn’t be driving - but revving the handle bars none-the-less and finally zooming away loudly into the night, going home.


	5. Teardrops on my Guitar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *when Taylor Swifts song comes on the radio I recommend listening to it along with Ferdinand, it really sets the tone of the scene!
> 
> *Claude is inspired by Jeff Goldblum don't judge me

Everything seems to rush back to Ferdinand as soon as his eyes are blinked open, Claude, Kings Cup, Hubert, Felix, Hubert, Claude, Hubert, Being Sick, and then a fog of TV static where the rest of his night should be. It was like there was a black hole in his brain and everything that had happened after he had found Hubert had been sucked into it. 

Physically, he feels fine - at least until he goes to shift and suddenly every muscle is screaming at him. His face pales and he feels his throat dry, and knowing what is about to come next he promptly looks over the side of the bed - thankfully spotting a bucket which he tugs close to his face and proceeds to throw up into. 

His head yells at him as he does, and he whimpers as he finishes, wishing desperately that he had someone to hold his hair back for him. He puts the bucket back down on the floor again and prays to whatever God is up there someone brings him some panadol and a toothpaste soon, for he feels utterly pathetic and disgusting. Not only for the fact that he’s throwing up into a bucket but to think that he can’t even remember what he did the previous night. 

Ferdinand rolls onto his back and starts to kick at the blankets that cover his legs and spread his arms out as a hot flush covers his body, watching his chest rise and fall slowly and not quite realising in his sick haze that he wasn’t wearing a shirt anymore. He gives the covers another kick to try and push them away but the movement just makes his head pound even more and _god,_ he was never drinking again.

Yet Ferdinand has one thing to be grateful for as he lays there in the pitch black, and that’s the curtains that cover the many windows in the room are black-out ones. It’s thanks to them that there's still a chill in the air that helps his burning forehead and his throbbing skull - turning pain into more of a dull press at the front of his skull if he lays still enough.

He zones out, eyes slipping shut again as more of the horrific memories from the night previously unveil themselves in his brain without permission. There’s a lot cut out in between each flash of recollection and Ferdinand, as he remembers, can’t seem to place any of the reasons why he did anything. It’s like everything that had made sense last night just feels daft now. There’s one vague memory in particular that confuses him the most, a memory of hot lips on his own and hands in his hair.

A shudder rolls through his body and he groans, raising his arms to cover his face and press the heel of his palm into his eyes until white spots started to come up in his vision. He inhaled through his nose slowly as the nausea in his gut started to rise, breathing out through his lips and then repeating. 

As he breathes in this time he’s overcome with the scent of something he didn’t recognise. It smelt like strong coffee and Ferdinand pulled his hands back to squint at the material. It was black, and the cuffs of the sleeves had holes cut in them for someone’s thumbs to push through. It definitely wasn’t his, Ferdinand thought as he slowly threaded his thumbs through the holes - he didn’t own any black hoodies, and he certainly didn’t cut holes in them. Whoever had given it to him must have in a part of the night that Ferdinand’s brain had cut out, he thought as he pressed the sleeves back to his nose. 

He inhales again slowly, thinking that no matter _who’s _jacket it is, it smells ridiculously good. Curious due to the fact that it smells only like coffee, a scent which Ferdinand usually hated. His heartbeat quickens as he breathes out, thumping hard enough in his chest that he feels like it’s trying to jump out his throat. It doesn’t stop him from pressing his nose deeper into the material though, wondering why on earth his thighs tense and his toes curl as he does, as if his unconscious mind wasn’t telling him something about who the jacket belonged to.

The door creaked open slowly, and Ferdinand quickly dropped his hands down from his face like he had been caught doing something wrong.

“Morning, Ferdie.” The voice said, and Ferdinand’s gut sank immediately. “Someone told me you got up to a lot last night,” she continues, closing the door and crossing her arms as she leans backwards against it. She starts tapping one of her fingers on her arm, pursing her lips at the hungover boy in bed, “do you know who’s jacket that is?” and Ferdinand doesn’t reply for a good two minutes.

“No, I.. do not.”

“It’s Huberts.” 

Ah. 

Well, that made sense as to why it smelled so good. “...why am I wearing it?” Ferdinand asks quietly, not really knowing if he wants to hear the answer or not. What situation could have possibly led to Hubert lending him his jacket?

“You really don’t remember?” Dorothea asks now, taking a few steps closer, sitting down on the side of the bed and - like the absolute goddess she is - holding out two panadol and a cold glass of water for Ferdinand. He takes the medicine graciously, not wasting any time in swallowing them down as he thinks about Dorothea’s question. 

He remembers a few things, like playing beer pong and kings cup, he remembers dancing to Toxic by Britney Spears, he remembers making out with Claude - something he was definitely going to come back to later - and he remembers needing Hubert. There’s something vague in there too, like -_ oh!_ \- he was crying on the back patio of the house until he was approached by... Dorothea,_ yes,_ who he threw up on and then who cleaned him up and put him to bed. 

He blinks hard, and the memories are still fuzzy, and he can’t quite tell if his memories are true or not but it must be right, for how else would she have known he was in this bed and needed panadol? Yet, where Hubert’s jacket ended up in this weird turn of events - Ferdinand had no idea.

“Did something happen after you put me to bed?” He guessed, forcing himself to sit up and take another mouthful from his glass of water as Dorothea speaks - a bad idea in retrospect.

“_Hubert_ put you to bed.” 

Ferdinand splutters as she says it - the water previously in his mouth spraying everywhere as his eyes go wide.

He grimaces at the mess he’s made, again, and rubs the back of his hand across his lips to wipe the water away before turning back to Dorothea, eyebrows pulled together in concern - “Hubert? W-why?!” He asks, sitting forwards as if Dorothea is telling him a fairytale - the sick feeling in his stomach and head be damned.

Dorothea just shrugs, “That’s what I came to ask you.” She says back and they both fade in to silence as Ferdinand’s eyes cast down, wondering why the hell Hubert would put him to bed - Hubert didn’t owe him anything, Hubert didn’t even like him and yet.. - As he opens his mouth, Dorothea does too and they end up speaking over the top of each other.

“You do realise the one you threw up on was Hubert?”

“If it was not you, then who was I sick on-”

Dread.

That’s all he can feel. His throat is tight again, his face pale - and he can hear Dorothea bursting into a fit of laughter, totally unaware of Ferdinand’s sudden state. He exhales slowly, reaching across to the nightstand to calmly put his glass of water down, “Dorothea, bucket, please. I am going to be sick again.”

She just laughs at him, and Ferdinand shoots her an expression that, thankfully, makes her eyes widen as she understands his seriousness. She reaches for the bucket quickly, passing it across to Ferdinand who grabs it and burrows his face into it in shame. He whimpers softly, feeling ridiculous all over, because how could he have been sick on Hubert? 

_Hubert._

The same Hubert whom he had had unrequited feelings for since he was a kid. Hubert, who he had been trying to impress for years, only to ruin it like a fool in one night. He’s still staring into the bucket as his mind ticks over because - and it’s the reason the sick feeling starts to fade - Hubert wouldn’t have given Ferdinand his hoodie if he hated him that much. As embarrassing as it was, there was the slightest chance Hubert could have found it endearing - right?

They sit in their separate positions for a while until Dorothea eventually reaches across to tug the bucket from Ferdinand’s grip and place it back down onto the floor, scooting onto the bed as so Ferdinand could collapse into her side. He lets out another pathetic sounding sigh, pressing his nose into her chest as she starts rubbing circles on his back - reaching back across for the water and nudging it at Ferdinand’s face until he takes it, slowly sipping in an attempt to rehydrate himself. 

They stay like that for a while, and eventually Ferdinand’s thoughts circle back to Hubert. He can’t help but feel happy, albeit a confused-sort-of-happy, because it had to mean _something_ if Hubert had cleaned him up and put him to bed. You don’t do that for someone you hate, you leave them in their own misery - y_ou don’t give them your hoodie_. 

Ferdinand sighs another shuddering breath, finally leaning away from Dorothea in order to pull the hoodie over his head and sink into the smell of rich coffee beans. 

“I threw up on Hubert, and then he put me to bed and gave me his jacket.” He says outloud, because it really doesn’t seem real. Dorothea just nods, “You sure did.”

There’s another few moments of silence until Dorothea breaks it, clearing her voice and raising her hand to examine her nails, when she speaks next she tries to say it almost casually.

“I had my own romance of the night.” And now it’s Ferdinand’s turn to be surprised, and he turns to look at her as she continues, “... Petra and I... We walked to her motorbike and made out while she sat on it.” Dorothea looks sort of dreamy as she explains it, “it was the biggest lesbian moment of my life.”

Ferdinand can’t help but laugh- turning to her, “So we are both screwed then, me metaphorically and you physically?” he asks and Dorothea hits him on the leg with a blush coating her cheeks. She leans back into the soft pillows though, rolling to her side and cuddling up close to Ferdinand, “I suppose we are.” 

There’s silence again, but this time it’s comfortable. Ferdinand’s mind wanders and he almost feels guilty for not admitting to Dorothea his own kiss of the night. Of course he knows that she does not care if he is gay, infact she probably already knows that he is. But a silent acknowledgment verses admitting something out loud are two very different things. 

And it’s weird, because he has memories of feeling so comfortable laying with another man - Claude, he forces himself to admit - but now when he thinks back to it he just feels worried. And whether it is because he’s afraid to come out or concerned that Claude will make that decision for him he doesn’t know. 

What he does know, and what the kiss he shared with Claude cemented in his brain, is that he definitely does not want to kiss anyone except for Hubert. 

Ferdinand can feel his eyes starting to droop slightly as he forces the confusion into the back of his head, letting the bizarre happiness caused by some unlikely turn of events that had the universe on his side suddenly, that Hubert (_maybe possibly please)_ did not hate him as much as Ferdinand once thought. 

But Dorothea is gently patting his arm and Ferdinand knows it’s time to leave the comfort of the bed and return home. He drags himself up, so very thankful the panadol he managed to keep down is starting to take effect, for his head is only beating in a dull throb now. They walk down the stairs together, and while Ferdinand clings ever so tightly to Dorothea’s arm for support, he can’t help but think he’s forgetting something. 

The sun shining through the windows is bright and Ferdinand has to hold his hand up to his face to shield his eyes, wondering how early it was. Yet he reasons with himself that it’s better than leaving in the afternoon when everyone else is awake, as he’s not quite prepared for that walk of shame yet. 

As he leaves with Dorothea to the front door, he passes Felix and Sylvain snogging under a blanket - eyes darting away quickly as he realises that’s not the only thing happening under there. At least they are comfortable with their sexuality he thought in hindsight.

The rest of the weekend passes smoothly, Ferdinand attends his horse riding lessons as usual and does his homework - all the while with Hubert’s jumper folded neatly on his desk staring at him like it has its own personality. He can’t seem to get Hubert out of his head, no matter how much he tries to distract himself with taking Penny on long gallops across the beach or training for his polo matches. He even ends up thinking about Hubert while at the market when the strong smell of black coffee overwhelms his senses and he ends up walking to that very small just to sniff the packets of coffee beans. 

That’s when a brilliant idea had struck him and he quickly looked up to meet eyes with one of the lovely old woman behind the counter - asking politely for a recommendation on what coffee would be adequate for a thank you present. 

In the back of Ferdinand’s head somewhere he thought that maybe buying a thankyou gift for Hubert would help him focus, but he was wrong. Oh, he was so wrong - for now his bedroom smelt like rich coffee. 

It’s even worse during the night when he can’t sleep, when Hubert’s jumper is sitting there on his desk. It’s an ongoing battle that he fails to win when he wraps himself up in the black jumper and presses his nose into it each night.

And it’s creepy. And it’s not at all how _someone like him_ should be acting. 

But he can’t help it, for it feels too good to have the soft press of material to his cheek as he fads off into sleep. Every morning, when he crawls out of bed, he folds the hoodie back up and places it in the same spot on his desk, promising himself he won’t touch it again, only to fail his promise to himself again each night. 

He wakes up the next day for school as his radio-alarm goes off, and he stretches out in bed as music starts to play from one of the local radio stations. A cheesy, stupid grin pulls at his cheeks as he begins to recognise the song, and he tugs Huberts jumper up into his face to mumble the lyrics of the song into (with a slight change of names) “Hubert looks at me, I make a smile so he won’t see, that I want, and I need, and everything that we should be,”

He slips out of bed as the song continues along, undoing his hair which he ties into two long pigtails at night to keep it from knotting. He places the hair ties down on his dresser as he walks around the room while running his fingers through his long hair to brush the kinks out from it. As the chorus comes on he reaches for his hairbrush, holding it up to his lips like a microphone and singing the words along with Taylor Swift on the radio. 

“-I wonder if he knows he's all I think about at night.” Ferdinand flops back down on his bed, hair splayed everywhere as he continues to sing, “He's the reason for the teardrops on my guitar, the only thing that keeps me wishing on a wishing star, he's the song, in the car I keep singing don't know whyyyy I do~“ He feels like an idiot but he can’t stop the smile over his face as he forces himself back up to get ready as images from the past night flash through his head. 

He slowly completes the rest of his morning rituals to the song, pulling a salmon pink polo over his head, and rubbing his moisturizer into his face and hands - all the while humming along to the song playing from his bedroom radio as he walks into his onsweet bathroom. Ferdinand’s hair gets pulled into a loose bun at the back of his head, meeting his own eyes in the mirror as the song dips - 

“So I'll drive home alone, as I turn out the light, I'll put his picture down and maybe get some sleep tonight-” 

Ferdinand then reaches across for his little shaver, raising it up to his eyebrows to neaten them until he catches the reflection of Hubert’s jacket in his bathroom mirror - biting down on his bottom lip as the end of the song plays ‘_drew looks at me, I fake a smile so he won't see.’_

He stares at the jacket for a good few moments as the next song on the radio begins to play, wondering how bad it would be to ‘accidentally’ forget to return it today. 

What he doesn't accidentally forget though, is the bag of expensive coffee beans he bought Hubert as a thank you gift, which after leaving the bathroom he quickly picks up and tucks into his bag which he pulls over his shoulder. He turns his radio off and heads downstairs to quickly eat his breakfast before his dad gets up, that consists of a cup of fruit tea and a bowl of oats, then he leaves the house and jumps into Dorotheas car as she pulls up to drive him to school each morning. 

The day is a slow drawl of lessons and studying. It’s close to the end of the day now and everytime Ferdinand looks up at the clock it seems like the minute hand has moved backwards. All he can focus on is the black hair and bored, slumped position of someone that sits in front of him in class. 

_Finally_, it hit 3PM - and Ferdinand is not usually _this_ ready to get out of school but today as soon as the bell sounds he’s packing his books in his class then leaving to try and catch up to Hubert who had shot out as soon as the class ended. 

Ferdinand follows Hubert’s tall figure walking down the hall - quickening his pace and working himself up to call out when the crowd shuffles out the way and he notices someone else grabbing Hubert’s attention.

His blood runs cold and suddenly he feels very nervous, for Claude is the one there chatting to Hubert. His mind flashes with images from the previous week and the internal panic rises as he wonders if Claude is cruel enough to tell Hubert what happened – surely not. Unfortunately Ferdinand’s not quick enough to hide when Claude spots him too - raising a hand in the air to wiggling his fingers in a wave. Ferdinand’s feet move on their own and he crosses the corridor to him, swallowing in dread.

“Afternoon Claude-” his voice squeaks and he looks to Hubert, clearing it, “Hubert-” 

Hubert has a look on his face that Ferdinand can’t place, but the taller dips his head in a slight nod before Claude starts speaking again, eyes bright and mischievous. 

“I don’t want to keep you boys too long - but.. I could not help but notice you left your shirts in my _bathroom_,” his voice is cocky and his eyes glint, and soon enough his signature shit-eating grin is pulling up higher on his cheeks, eyebrows raising all too knowingly with them, “isn’t that just, _weird_.” It’s a rhetorical question and another look to Hubert tells Ferdinand that Hubert is experiencing the same deep uncomfortable feeling as he is.

Claude glances between the two again like he knows something that not even Hubert and Ferdinand know yet- before pulling their shirts from his bag and holding them out, Hubert reaches for his, and Claude pulls his hand back quickly -“ah hah- don’t thank me, the pleasure is all mine.” He holds the shirts out again and Hubert glares at him before grabbing his own and walking off so quickly that Ferdinand doesn’t even have time to process it, until he’s halfway towards the doors.

His own eyes dart back to Claude again, who winks effortlessly at him before he too, is grabbing his shirt. He’s almost about to run off too, when Claude doesn’t let go and pulls Ferdinand back – bright eyes piercing through what feels like Ferdinand’s _soul_ when he turns back around.

Oh no.

“So, you uh... found Hubert then?” Claude asks, looking down at the shirt they’re both holding that he slowly let’s Ferdinand take. Ferdinand shoves it under his arm nervously, eyes hesitantly meeting Claude’s again when the other laughs, not knowing what he’s going to find in their swirly golden depths. “You don’t remember?” Claude asks, and he says it so casually that to any on lookers they could simply be having a chat about the weather.

“I-- .. not quite.” Ferdinand admits softly, hating every part of this conversation, “I remember.. some of it.” 

Claude nods again, tapping his finger on his chin, “interesting.” They both look at each other again, and Claude laughs once more (and it sounds like birdsong, the asshole) before he’s nodding at the door, “you uh, better not let him get away, hm?”

Ferdinand follows his gaze, looking back to Claude because he wants to know what Claude knows, but he’s also right that Ferdinand can’t miss this opportunity to speak to Hubert – so he nods and mumbles out a quick, rushed thank you before he’s jogging off to catch up.

It’s now or never. Claude’s mysterious will have to wait.

Hubert’s half on his black motorbike when Ferdinand reaches him and he doesn’t even have time to oggle at the way Hubert sits there, black ripped skinny jean’s stretched tight across his thighs and black painted nails carefully placing his headphones in as he readies to go. Ferdinand doesn’t even think as he jogs closer, reaching out to grab onto Hubert’s arm. 

Hubert whips his head around to Ferdinand and his stomach drops because, he thinks, grabbing someone who _didn’t really_ like him still probably wasn’t the best way to start a conversation.

“Hubert! I, um--” and Hubert’s expression remains blank, eyes squinting at Ferdinand in a disgust that slowly transforms - as he sighs and removes one of his earbuds - into something more like amusement. And even that - the slightest acknowledgement - makes Ferdinand’s heart begin to beat rapidly in his chest.

Similarly, his words are caught in his throat, and one of Hubert’s eyebrows raise, “Ferdinand. I’m waiting,” and it seems to smack Ferdinand back into gear for he pulls his bag to the front of his chest and starts to dig around in it, grabbing the packet of coffee beans and quickly holding them out, “I got these for you.” 

It’s Hubert’s turn to be surprised now, and he blinks in confusion, his eyes trailing down to the little bag Ferdinand is holding out. He doesn’t take it yet, and Ferdinand’s cheeks burn the longer this moment goes on. 

“Oh.” His reaction in a bit late, like time had finally caught up to him, “but.. why?” he reaches out to take the little packet never-the-less, turning it over in his hands ever so gently.

“I wanted to thank you.” Hubert’s eyes immediately snap back to Ferdinand and brows furrow, waiting for Ferdinand to expand on what he had just said, “for.. the other night, when you helped me... clean up.” And maybe, unless Ferdinand’s brain was pulling an awful trick on him, he sees the smallest of smiles prickle at one corner of Hubert’s lips.

It sends his heart into a mad flurry of beating, and he knows his cheeks must be bright pink by now but he can’t help it. “I know nothing about coffee but I asked the woman at the market and she recommended this one so--”

“Thank you, Ferdinand.” 

It was like Cupid’s arrow was shot out of nowhere and directly into his heart, for it stops beating and his mouth drops open a little while his head goes blank, and before his mind starts working again it’s too late because Hubert has already pulled his helmet on and is revving the handles of his bike, lifting his platform boots from the ground and zooming off. 

Ferdinand is still standing there staring after where Hubert left on his ridiculous bike in his stupid ‘my chemical romance’ tshirt, and his two belts that wearn’t even threaded through the hoops in his jeans, and the ridiculous purple and black striped sock-gloves that Ferdinand hated so much he loved. 

It takes a while, but his heart pace slowly returns back to normal and he releases a long breath of air, nodding slightly to himself because _well done Ferdinand_, he had successfully brought words from Hubert’s lips that were not angry _or_ cruel. 

If anything, they were kind. And they were for him. _They were his words._

He closes his eyes as he takes another long breath, and he has to bite down on his lip to stop himself from grinning too much because all he can see it’s Hubert’s half turned-down head and the beginnings a smile pulling at his thin lips as he holds the packet of coffee in his hands. 

It was a scene that was now forever burned into Ferdinand’s mind forever. 

He opens his eyes again, and turns, planning to make his way across to Dorothea’s car but when he looks up after taking a step, she’s standing right there. 

Ferdinand pales immediately, and she smirks, “Ferdinand.” 

“Yeah?”

“Your pants.”

“My pan-” He glances downwards, and his eyes widen at the semi-apparant lump in his jeans. He swears to himself silently, hurriedly pulling off his jacket and fumbling around with it until he can tie it around his waist, “Shit - shitshitshit,” He hisses, growing more flustered as he hears Dorothea’s high pitched laugh.

“Wow. Ferdinand. I knew you had it bad but-”

“Shut up!” He says, eyes looking up at his best friend, panicked and red. “He smiled at me, ok-”

“He smiled at you and you popped a boner.” Dorothea repeats, still grinning, and reaching across to grab one of Ferdinand’s arms to haul him off to her car as he fusses about with his clothes.

Her fades Dorothea’s chatter about her day out of his mind as he sits in the car as he slowly comes down from his panic, and all he can think is that he’s in for an interesting night full of Hubert’s smiles and his coffee scented jumper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! I hope you all enjoyed the chapter.
> 
> If you're interested in supporting me, I've got a kofi account now which you can find the link to on my twitter @jinxed_it !


	6. Dirty Little Secret

Hubert let the packet of coffee beans sit on his desk for a week before he decided to open them, and brew them, and damn it.

_Fuck_.

It smelt _good_.

Hubert lifts the cup of coffee to his nose, eyes closing as he breathes it in. The deep and the spicy aroma of such a rare blend fills his head, encomposes him with their tangy, almost fruity scents.

Fuck.  
God _fucking_ damn it.

He slowly lifts the cup up, sipping some of the delicious, bitter liquid and allowing his features to relax before the more intrusive thoughts shoved their way into his head, thoughts about long sunset coloured hair and a deep red blush.

Hubert’s arm still aches where Ferdinand had grabbed him when he was half on his bike, and whether that ache was in a good or bad way he still wasn't sure. It was like fire, like a burn deep under his skin. How just a touch had done that Hubert had no idea, no one had ever been under his skin like that before. His heart prickled in heat similar to his arm, and Hubert sighed, placing the cup down and reaching across for his text books to try and concentrate on something else.

He flicked his radio on too, grimacing as that _God awful_ Taylor Swift song started to play. Honestly her songs were so_ whiny_ and ridiculous he didn't know who would actually listen and enjoy them. 

_Ferdinand would_, Hubert’s mind supplied unhelpfully and Hubert hated how right his subconscious was sometimes. Ferdinand definitely seemed like the sort of person to dance around in his room half dressed with a hairbrush for a microphone - moping along to Taylor Swift’s lyrics about wanting a boyfriend. 

_Or girlfriend._ He had no proof Ferdinand was gay. Or bisexual. Either. Neither. Whatever. Hubert didn’t care. _He did not care._

He flicked the channel over, because Taylor Swift’s love songs were getting too into his head, like the universe had a plan to force him to listen to every song that had even the slightest amount to do with his situation. 

_Let me know that I've done wrong,_

_When I've known this all along,_

_I go around a time or two,_

_Just to waste my time with you._

The next song began to play and for a moment Hubert was glad, as he didn’t half mind this band - but as the sweet voices of the All American Rejects sung across his little radio, he began to think the Universe was _most definitely _against him.

_Tell me all that you've thrown away,_

_Find out games you don't wanna play,_

_You are the only one who needs to know._

He gripped his pen tighter in his hands, feeling it impossible to concentrate on the work laid in front of him.

_I'll keep you my dirty little secret_

_Don't tell anyone, or you'll be just another regret_

_My dirty little secret_

The lyrics of the song resonated with him. It’s like Ferdinand was destined to be in his mind, whether that was annoying him or.. or whatever_ this_ was. 

_Who has to know_

_When we live such fragile lives?_

_It's the best way we survive_

_I go around a time or two_

_Just to waste my time with you_

What _was _this? 

Guilt? Obsession? Was it because Ferdinand had brought him coffee so he felt like he owed the other something now? It was like this was Ferdinand’s plan all along, wearing Hubert down enough until he gave in and -.. And _liked_ him.

Did he _like _Ferdinand? No. Of course not. Because he _liked_ Edelgard and he knew how that sat in his heart. Liking someone was comfortable and easy, this was something else. This was frightening and new and it made his heart rush and his mind distracted. This was the opposite of comfortable and easy, - yet all the same, Hubert couldn’t help but feel like a small part of himself was enjoying it.

_Those thoughts I can't deny_

_These sleeping thoughts won't lie_

_And all I've tried to hide_

_It's eating me apart_

_Trace this life out_

His eyes flicked back to the coffee on his desk that was growing cooler now and Hubert sighed, finally giving in and reaching across to it. He lent the mug against his lips as the song continued in the background, finding it increasingly hard to concentrate. Finally he parted his lips to swallow down the remaining coffee, every mouthful of the delicious brew slipping down his throat reminding him why anything to do with Ferdinand was a terrible, terrible idea.

_I'll keep you my dirty little secret._

He stares at his homework for too long, finding himself so unable to concentrate that he gives up, grabbing his motorbike keys from his desk and deciding to pay a surprise visit to Edelgard to see if she had any advice on how to get a certain orange haired man out of his head. He stepped out of his room - pulling his door shut before hesitating and shoving the door open again, walking back in and up to his radio, about to angrily press the ‘off’ button when it played the last lyrics to the song. Asshole technology, it could probably read his thoughts.

_My dirty little secret_

_Dirty little secret,_

_Dirty little secret,_

_Who has to know?_

_Who has to know._

Finally he shoved his finger down on the switch, turning his back on it and heading downstairs towards his bike. As he passes through the hallway he grabs his helmet, not bothering to tell his family where he’s going as he exits the house. He climbs onto his bike and revs the engine too hard - before zooming off down the street.

It’s not long before he arrives at Edelgard’s house, eyes squinting as she stands on the sidewalk waving goodbye to someone he doesn’t recognise, who was climbing into their car. Hubert frowns, and as the car drives off Edelgard must spot him because she blushes darkly - even from this distance he could tell her embarrassed face. The slight widening of her eyes, the way her mouth opened and closed, followed by a swallow and the tucking of invisible hair behind her ear.

“Hubert. I didn’t realise you were coming over today.”

Hubert climbs off his bike, tugging his helmet off and shoving it under his arm as he walks closer, turning his head to watch the car leave down the street with the mysterious blue haired person inside it. “Who was that?”

“Oh. You know.” Edelgard says back too quickly, and Hubert knows now she’s _definitely_ trying to hide something.

“No, I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.” He replies, and she simply laughs softly, starting to walk inside. He follows quickly, because the reason for him visiting has changed oh so suddenly. 

“Edelgard-” Hubert tries again, placing his keys down on the little hall table, his helmet next to it. She still doesn’t answer, walking to the cupboard to pick out a glass of water before turning the tap on and filling it up- starting to drink it as Hubert insists once more, “I’ve never seen him? Her? before,”

Edelgard half finishes the glass, and places it down on the counter a little too hard, “Byleth. _Their _name is Byleth.” 

Hubert blinks in momentary confusion - but finds it checks out. _They._

“They’re new.” Edelgard adds after a few moments pause and Hubert frowns because he was sure he would have recognised someone like that, “I’ve never seen them before.”

Edelgard nods, “I’m well aware. They’re only in two days a week, repeating a subject they failed a year ago.”

_Ah, that makes sense._

“You’re also far too busy thinking of someone else to notice anything happening around you at the moment.”

_That also makes se-_ _no!_ Hubert’s eyes snap back up to her quickly, “excuse you-” he starts, and Edelgard smirks. 

“I didn’t know vampires could blush, Hubert.” She leans on the counter, and Hubert feels like a conversation that had started off in his favour had made a complete one-eighty. A vampire? Blushing?!

“I’m not blushing.” 

“You are-”

“_Not_.” He cuts her off, “I am _not _blushing.”

But by this point even Hubert could feel the heat on his cheeks - damn Ferdinand, it was all his fault. Edelgard just smiles in response and Hubert doesn’t trust it one bit.

“So, why are you here?” She asks eventually, running her finger around the rim of the glass. “Could it be because of the reason you are _definitely not blushing_ for?”

That cocky little-

"I want to know more about mysterious Byleth and why _you_ were blushing so much too." He shoots back, because _he wasn't blushing, _he was just coming down with something in the middle of summer, or maybe it was an allergic reaction to Edelgards bullshit. 

She was still looking at him, probably thinking about how she could sway the conversation towards not talking about herself - Edelgard was devilishly clever like that. Hubert grimaced at this realisation because he knew the more the conversation lingered on him the more likely Edelgard would be to find out the events she missed from the night of the party. The more likely this would turn into a _whole thing_ and not just him asking her to ‘give me a few of Ferdinand’s interests for an unnamed reason.'

Plus there was a _reason_ he wanted to keep the events hidden from her. What that reason was, Hubert didn’t know, but he was sure there was one!

"I asked you first." Edelgard pulls Hubert from his thoughts as she tugs a little barstool out from under the kitchen island to take a seat on, swirling the remaining water around in her glass like it was brandy or jin and this was an interrogation. 

Hubert's face crinkles with discomfort, but he gives in for a reason he not yet knows, "Ferdinand bought me a present of some coffee. I wish to return the favour.”

“Oh? Why did he do that?" 

"Ah- An answer for an answer, Edelgard. Why were you blushing over Byleth?" Hubert asks, and Edelgard shrugs as if playing it off like it’s no big deal, "they're cute. How can you blame me for blushing?" 

Hubert sent a frustrated look her way to see she was looking back at him with raised eyebrows, obviously very intrigued, "my go,” she says, and taps her index finger on the glass to each word she says, “why did Ferdinand buy you coffee?" 

"I don't know."

"Liar."

Hubert scowls again, staring down at the bench and spreading his hand over it, finding the pattern in the marble was suddenly very interesting. "I helped him with something at the party. Why haven't you mentioned Byleth before?"

Edelgards cheeks are turning pink again, and Hubert squints as she does as if trying to find out what's hidden behind her guards.

"It.. never came up." She finally replies, and Hubert knows there’s more to that sentence then she’s saying.

They fell into silence, only meeting each other's gazes stubbornly as neither are ready to back down from the answers they want. 

Finally Edelgard caves, taking a deep breath and reaching over the counter to take Hubert's hands in what feels bizarrely intimate for the type of conversation they're having. "I thought you would be.. jealous of them." 

Hubert scoffs and goes to tug away, but Edelgards grip is surprisingly strong for such a petite person, and she keeps their hands together. "I wasn't sure on what your reaction would be towards them. You---.. have always come across as quite-" she hesitates, but the words are on her lips. 

"Yes?" Hubert prompts, feeling slightly on edge. He understands why her grip on his hands is so tight now. 

Edelgard takes a slow breath, staring down at their joined hands, "you've always come across as quite possessive of me." Edelgard admits softly, and Hubert nods, doing his best not to feel offended. He respects Edelgard, and with that respects her views and feelings no matter what they are.

"I see. Hense your encouragement for me to find a friend. I assume this was since you met Byleth?" He asks, taking a seat on the opposite end of the island table, squeezing her hand that was still gripping his in the middle of the table as a silent gesture that _it's okay, I'm not mad._

Edelgard shakes her head, a small tear drop splattering the marble counter under her - it surprises Hubert and his own heart aches in response, he hadn't seen her cry for a long time.

"No, I met them not too long ago." She admits, sounding sniffly and Hubert feels overcome with the urge to reach out and pull her into a hug. Another odd feeling - they'd never been the kind for physical affection before. 

Edelgard gently pulls at one of Hubert’s wristbands, as if trying to delay the inevitable of this conversation. A conversation that has obviously been wearing on her a while now- a conversation that Hubert suspects should have happened a long time ago.

Hubert stays silent. He feels out of his league with a situation like this and is drawing a blank on how to comfort her - it's when a hug would have worked perfectly, if only he was brave enough to take that step. He squeezes her palm where their hands are still met in the middle of the table, and hopes it suffices enough for now. 

“I really like them, Hubert-” Edelgard admits finally, and pulls back one hand to wipe at her eyes which water more- “but it felt like I wasn’t allowed to pursue them, or _anyone_ in the past for that matter, because, well... because of you. I’m the only one you’ve got - I don’t want you to think I’m abandoning you.”

Hubert nods and his eyes fall to the table as silence overtakes the room, apart from Edelgard’s soft sniffling. He tosses words about in his head, things to comfort her but no - she wasn’t looking for comfort. This was not a situation she needed to be comforted in. This was just a fact, and the fact was he had been too suffocating in their friendship. 

Maybe friendships weren't as comfortable and easy as he had thought only earlier today.

He shifts on the seat slightly, shoving away the ache in his heart for later and taking a slow breath, “I.. helped Ferdinand the other night. He threw up on me, I cleaned him up, that’s why he bought me the coffee.” He says softly, brushing his thumb across Edelgard’s slowly, “I want to buy him something in return. Make a friend.” 

Edelgard laughs softly through her sniffling, rubbing her eyes again and smudging her eyeliner across her cheek, “You don’t need to make friends with Ferdinand just because he was the first person I suggested-”

“I’m not.” Hubert admitted, and Edelgard paused to peer at him through mascara smudged lashes, “At least, I don’t think I am.” And now Edelgard was staying silent for Hubert to speak, playing with their joint hands while he did. “His behavior at Claude’s party was... endearing.” Hubert pursed his lips as not to smile, “Like a baby bird - stupid yet adorable.

Edelgard laughed softly through the tears tracking down her cheeks, “Did you just call Ferdinand ‘adorable?’” she asked, eyes starting to brighten again which made Hubert glad he hadn't drawn out the previous topic and said something to make her feel worse. 

“It seems I did.” He admitted, glancing away as he felt unable to help the small smile prickle his lips, or the heavy thumping from his chest as they faded off into silence again. It was the most bizarre feeling - his head felt almost light and giddy and his stomach was no longer in a knot. It was as if admitting his true feelings and speaking out loud to someone was a good thing. He looked up again, gripping Edelgard’s hand on the table, “Thank you for your honestly, Edelgard,” it was sincere too, he found, he was truly thankful. “Please do not hesitate in the future to talk to me about these things.” 

For as much ache it caused to know that Edelgard needed to move on for this place in her life, at least she hadn’t cut him off. At least she had been honest. And maybe, Hubert struggled to admit, it helped that he had a new budding friendship to look forward to as well.

Edelgard nodded, “back at you, Hubert.” 

They eventually moved from the kitchen to Edelgard’s room - once they silence between them had gone on long enough and Edelgard had dragged him off, insisting that the conversation was far too heavy when they had some important planning to do. She flops down on her red bedsheets, grabbing a pillow to prop herself up and her note book as Hubert followed. 

Her room had changed since the last time Hubert had visited - the biggest change being a poster of a band Hubert couldn’t recognise, ‘_Tears for Fears’_ hanging above her bed. He could only assume it was a band Byleth liked. 

“You’re whipped.” Hubert said, nodding towards the poster, and Edelgard smirked into the notebook she had pulled against her face, “how did you know?” 

It may have been a rhetorical question, but Hubert answered anyway, “because you wouldn’t get rid of paramore for_ just anyone_.” The teasing was light, and Hubert took a seat down beside her as she blushed, “now - this important planning you had in mind? --I’m assuming prom?”

Her smirk told him it wasn’t for prom. 

“We need to think of the perfect gift for you to give back to Mr Aegir.”

And right. Of course. _Oh dear._

  


Tea. 

That’s what they had decided on eventually. 

Ferdinand was always drinking tea, according to Edelgard’s memory from when she and Ferdinand met for extra curricular classes or when they spent time together while their parents had meetings. He always had a flask on him with a weird fruity smelling concoction inside that he had offered to Edelgard one too many times. As well as that - because Ferdinand was apparently as obsessed with tea as much as Hubert was with coffee - he always smelt like tea, too. 

So there it was decided (after an extensive debate on whether a horse plushie would make a better gift) that Hubert would find some sort of delicious fruit tea blend for Ferdinand. A simple thank you, for his thankyou-apology, for being sick over Hubert’s shirt. 

And that was completely normal. 

Because people often bought thank you gifts for each other. And there was absolutely nothing for him to read into about his own feelings and how deep down he really, _really_ hoped that Ferdinand would enjoy the gift.

Not at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for giving this fic so much love! It's been such a pleasure to write.


	7. I'm Yours

< ** __saladfingers_ _ ** is now ** _ online_ ** in ** _PromPrep _ ** >  
< ** _irl_disneyprincess _ ** is now ** _ online_ ** in ** _PromPrep _ **>

** _ _saladfingers_: _ ** sup losers

< ** _ferdie♡_ ** is now ** _online_ ** in ** _ PromPrep_ ** _ > _

** _ _saladfingers_: _ **lol why is ur nickname so gay o_o  
**_ Ferdie♡: _ **dorothea set it haha

< ** _Dedue1990_ ** is now ** _online_ ** _ in _ ** _PromPrep _ ** _ >_

** _ Dedue1990:_ ** Hilda. Don’t. It’s not funny or cool to joke about someone’s sexuality.  
** _ _saladfingers_: _ ** thats what a gay would say………..  
** _ Dedue1990:_ ** No it is not. It’s what someone who wants to stand up for those who need it would say.

< ** _imperialprowess _ ** is now ** _ online_ ** in ** _PromPrep _ **>

** _ imperialprowess: _ ** anywayyy...  
** _ imperialprowess: _ ** we have formal preparation to discuss.  
** ** ** _Irl_disneyprincess: _ ** no, Edelgard. We have a serious matter of some HOMOPHOBES in the group chat. Not cool guys.  
** ** ** _Ferdie♡: _ ** its ok!! She’s just joking about.  
** _ Irl_disneyprincess: _ **Not happy.

< **_cemetaryxdrive _**is now online in **_PromPrep _**>

** _cemetaryxdrive: _ ** what makes a heart gay anyway lol  
**_saladfingers_ :** SHOT  
**cemetaryxdrive:** wtf does that mean  
**imperialprowess:** let's not fight, please. this is a mature chat.

< ** _llamallamaduck _ ** is now online in ** _PromPrep >_ **

** _llamallamaduck: _ **i’ll take a potato chip….. And ill EAT IT XDXD**  
_ Cemetaryxdrive: _ **???? **  
_ _saladfingers_ : _ **ur so randomz claude xDDDDD TACOS!  
**_ Imperialprowess: _**Lol. Anyway. Have we figured out a band for the night yet? **  
_Dedue1990: _ **There’s a group Dimitri is trying to contact called Sappho Slayers.  
**_Dedue1990:_** They’re ex students. We thought that it would be a good opportunity to support our school creatives.**  
_Imperialprowess: _ ** That’s great. Good work.  
_ _**_Dedue1990: _** Dimitri is just logging on now. He said he has news.

<** _ aslan_the_lion _ ** is now online in ** _ PromPrep >_ **

** _aslan_the_lion: _ **I actually got word from them earlier today they would be happy to play at the formal.**  
_ Imperialprowess: _ **Book them in, then. Claude, does this work for you?**  
_ Llamallamaduck: _ **mah spoon is toooo big...**  
_ _saladfingers_: _ **xD xD xD le troll face **  
_ Imperialprowess: _ **Claude. Yes or no.**  
_ Llamallamaduck: _ **yeah lmao sounds epic haha **  
_ aslan_the_lion_ **: The band is Catherine, Shamir and Flaynn who is still in our year.**  
_ imperialprowess_ **: Flaynn is Father Seteths little sister right?**  
_ Llamallamaduck_ **: at least he says she's his sister….. **  
_irl_disneyprincess_ ** : o___O  
**Aslan_the_lion:** um wat  
**_saladfingers_**: claude knows everyones secrets *giggles*

Ferdinand kicked off from the ground on his wheely-chair, spinning in a circle and letting out a deep breath. He lent his head back, looking up at the fan on his ceiling as his chair came to a stop. It wasn’t that he was bitter that Edelgard always seemed to be the one in charge - as it wasn’t hard to see that Edelgard had a way about her, a special type of leadership that made people want to follow her - it was just Ferdinand wished he had that same special ability.

He knew how to talk to people and he knew how to organise them, it was just whenever he tried to he was never taken seriously.

Ferdinand sighed and slid back over to his computer, pushing the thoughts away and instead scrolling through the messages that had popped up since he was gone.

** **

**_ imperialprowess:_** other than live music we also need a playlist, does anyone volunteer to put one together?  
_**llamallamaduck:** _this is what my music taste is like if you want me to make one (:  
**_llamallamaduck:_** < [ claudes playlist ](https://youtu.be/dQw4w9WgXcQ) >  
_**cemetaryxdrive: **_ asshole.  
_**Aslan_the_lion:** _ I can’t believe it  
_**irl_disneyprincess**_: -__-  
**_Dedue1990:_ ** haha.  
_**llamallamaduck: **_dun kill me plez xD**  
_Imperialprowess: _ **lol. annyywaay……. we should start selling tickets soon  
_**Imperialprowess**_: early-bird prices might be a good way to get people excited and thinking more about it. Along with posters. **  
_Irl_disneyprincess: _ **Bernadetta and Ignatz from our year are great artists, I’ll ask them about it <3 <3**  
_Imperialprowess: _ ** Thank you, Dorothea. **  
****_Irl_disneyprincess:_** NP! X

Ferdinand gnawed on his bottom lip as he thought, cause as much as he knew he might be an annoyance it didn’t stop him from wanting to help out where he could. 

** _Ferdie♡: _ ** I’m happy to organise the table and sit at it!  
** _Cemetaryxdrive: _ ** I’ll join you.  
** _Imperialprowess: _ **Thanks guys! I have to head off now. Keep me updated.

<** _ Imperialprowess _ ** has ** _ logged off >_ **

**_ Ferdie♡: _ ** Awesomesauce :) I’ll PM you.  
** _Cemetaryxdrive: _ **Okay haha**_   
_saladfingers_: _ ** lolz homos alert   
** _Irl_disneyprincess:_ ** D:<  
**** _**_saladfingers_**: _ get pwned :P

Ferdinand could feel the warmth spread across his face as the fact that Hubert volunteered to join him began to dawn on him more. He didn’t even process the messages that came after Hubert’s agreement, his mind feeling blank to it as the little voice at the back of his head told him that Hubert was the vice president of the Black Eagles, he had to volunteer for something.

Ferdinand felt sorry for his bottom lip as he chewed on it more, because _ sure, _ everyone volunteered for _ something _ every now and then but with him? _ At a stand _. Talking to people!

_ With him. With him! _

His mouse hovered over Hubert’s name, but right before clicking it another message popped up in the corner of his screen and he diverted his attention to it. Probably better not to come off as too clingy (ha, as if he hadn’t already come off as too clingy in the past years) Ferdinand thought, as he clicked on it.

** _Irl_disneyprincess: _ ** u ok?  
** _Ferdie♡: _ ** yeah y? **** _  
_ ** _Irl_disneyprincess: _ ** hilda’s comment  
** _Ferdie♡: _ ** oh it’s ok. she’s just trolling.  
**_Irl_disneyprincess: _**?**  
_Ferdie♡: _ ** claude is gay or bi or something**  
**_Irl_disneyprincess: _ how do u kno?

Ferdinand lent back from his computer, tapping his fingers against the table. On one hand, now was as good as any other time to tell her - and it wasn’t as if he couldn’t trust her - especially not with her sort-of-relationship with Petra going on at the moment. 

The keys clicked as he began typing out the message, but he paused as his finger rested over the enter key because, on the other hand, admitting something like that made it so real. _ Not that it isn’t already real from the party when I had Claude’s tongue down my throat _, an unhelpful part of his brain added.

He squeezed his eyes shut, not even able to look as he pressed down on the ‘enter’ button. He owed it to Dorothea to trust her after everything they had been through together and, if he was being honest with himself, he felt ready to have at least one other person know about his sexuality - it got tiring hiding it all the time. 

** _Ferdie♡: _ **i might have kissed him at the party a few weeks ago haha

His stomach ached from nerves, but as the ‘ping’ of the message sounded through his computer a wave of relief washed across him, eternally thankful for her immediate replies. 

** _Irl_disneyprincess: _ **AND YOU NEVER MENTIONED

He almost wished he could have seen her reaction.

** _Ferdie♡:_ ** I’m as surprised as you rofl  
** _Ferdie♡:_ ** thinking back on it, i think he just did it to find out if i’m gay**  
_ Irl_disneyprincess: _ ** UR GAY?!  
**_Ferdie♡:_ ** like u didnt kno :p

A small smile pulled at his lips as a strange weight lifted from his shoulders. It seemed fitting as _ I’m Yours _ by Jason Mraz started to play on the radio, only adding to the glowing he could practically feel radiating from his chest.

** _Irl_disneyprincess: _ **details??? im so proud of mah little ferdie..  
**_ Ferdie♡:_ ** ha. ha. funny.  
** _Ferdie♡:_ ** we were pretty drunk ^^’ kinda just ended up in a bedroom together and made out**  
_Irl_disneyprincess: _ ** how far did u get?  
** _Ferdie♡:_ ** i pulled away bc well… im sure u know lolz**  
_Irl_disneyprincess: _ ***squeals* its bc hubert isnt it**  
****_Ferdie♡: _** *covers ur mouth* it’s a secret dont tell

Ferdinand finally clicked away from the little chat window, unable to stop the smile from growing bigger on his cheeks. He supposed he hadn’t realised how much it had meant for him to come out to his best friend.

Come out.

As gay. 

It was real now. He had said it outloud to someone (well, close enough to out loud). It wasn’t just in his head anymore.

Ferdinand takes a slow breath, closing his eyes, “I’m gay,” He says softly to himself, wishing his heart would stop thumping against his ribcage so loudly, “I’m gay.. And that’s fine.”

He opens his eyes again - blinking away the water from his eyes because he had _ not _ almost cried. There was a lump in his throat, and he felt queasy, but almost like a _ good _ queasy. The sort of queasy that you get after you’ve overcome something difficult. It felt good, almost like a natural high that he suspects is all the dopamine rushing through his brain.

Taking advantage of the good feeling he clicks on Hubert’s little chat icon and messages him.

** _Ferdie♡:_ ** Hey! :) 

_ Oh, _ he cringes internally as he reads it back, suddenly regretting everything, _ way to sound like an overexcited puppy, Ferdinand. _

** _Cemetaryxdrive: _ **heya 

However, the sound of a message binged on his screen and as quickly as it had disappeared, the happy feeling rushes back. How could a simple ‘heya’ make his heart thump so quickly?

** _Ferdie♡: _ **we should discuss the ticket selling table!**  
_Cemetaryxdrive: _ ** Indeed we should.**  
_Ferdie♡: _ **maybe one of us can make some temporary posters before we get the actual ones from bernie and ignatz  
_**Ferdie♡:**_ and the other can find some ticket books and get that side of things organised :3**  
****_Cemetaryxdrive: _** I feel that we could get it done quicker if we did it together lol

Together?!

Ferdinand falls backwards off his chair in surprise.

“Ow-” he mutters to himself, starting to gently rub circles against his head where it hit the chair seat, hoping it wouldn’t bruise. Slowly he climbs back up onto his knees as the pain fades, peering across his vastness of hi desk at the message just sitting there on his screen staring back at him. Ferdinand blinks hard a few times, still not quite believing the message and wondering at the back of his head as if this is either some sort of incredible dream or awful trick. 

After what feels like an eternity of staring at his screen, the type box blinking back at him, he pulls himself back up onto his chair slowly to type back a lot more casually than he feels in that current moment.****

**_Ferdie♡: _ **ok surez. r u free sunday?**  
_ Cemetaryxdrive: _ ** I can come over at 11?  
**_Ferdie♡: _** sounds great ^_^ 

It_ wasn’t _ a dream.

A grin breaks over Ferdinand’s face, and in his moment of excitement he can’t help himself from getting up and doing a little jump-fist-bump into the air before falling down onto his bed face first. He tugs at Hubert’s hoodie which is still wrapped around his pillow, pulling it against his face and pressing his nose into it to stop himself from ‘squee-ing’ like an overexcited 13 year old. It was just so impossible to believe that he had spent years of his life trying to get Hubert to notice him and now, i_ n a matter of weeks _, he had Hubert coming to his house. 

_ His house _.

Eventually Ferdinand flopped onto his back - covering his face in the hoodie that no longer smelt like coffee beans and instead like Ferdinand’s own perfume and tea leaves. But it was still Huberts jumper and that thought alone was enough to make his mind rush.

His monitor pinged in the background but Ferdinand ignored it in favour for rolling onto his side, his hand slipping up his shirt to his belly which he began to draw idle circles against as his mind numbly focused on the heat between his legs. Slowly his hand dipped down, running across the top of his jeans before fingers struggled to undo the buttons to them, his breath slowing and catching as his knuckles brushed against his crotch- wondering if it was deemed acceptable behavior to just--

\--his computer pinged again.

And then it buzzed.

Ferdinand opened his eyes and shot a frustrated glance to the monitor before dragging himself back to his feet, still cradelling Hubert’s jumper against his chest. He expected the messages to be nothing more than Dorothea asking for more details from his night and promised himself once he checked he could lay down and mull over… _ things _ again. Yet as he reached his computer, his cheeks went pink, because it wasn’t Dorothea.  
  
Ferdinand quickly sat down, sending a prayer to any God that might be listening to make Hubert forgive him for disappearing for- twenty minutes?! Had it really been that long? As he quickly typed a message back.

  
**_Cemetaryxdrive: _** ....I need your address… haha

** _< cemetaryxdrive nudged you >_ **

** _Cemetaryxdrive: _ ** hello?  
** _Cemetaryxdrive: _ **..**.  
_Ferdie♡: _ **soz!! My dad called me.

Ferdinand bites his lip, trying desperately not to overthink that Hubert was actually _ waiting _ for his messages, as he types in his address and presses send.

** _Cemetaryxdrive: _ **cool. Should I bring anything?**  
_Ferdie♡: _ **oh thats ok i have lots of crafting supplies here ^_^**  
****_Cemetaryxdrive: _** haha i mean lunch lol. but i suppose we could go out to eat when we buy the tickets.

Ferdinand could feel his cheeks darkening, and he bit down on the inside of his cheek to stop the grin from spreading too much.

** _Ferdie♡: _ **sounds great to me :) **  
_Cemetaryxdrive: _ ** see u on sunday then.  
**  
_< Cemetaryxdrive _ ** is now _ offline >_

He stared at the screen, reading across the messages and feeling that same thumping against his ribcage. Ferdinand knew it wasn’t worth it to get overexcited, he didn’t want to think that their meeting was going to be anything it wasn’t but- it _ had _ been Huberts suggestion. And furthermore, Hubert had suggested to get lunch together - lunch! 

He couldn’t _ wait _for sunday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a bit of a short chapter! (well, short to read but not short to write) but one of my faves. please click on claudes link btw it's an actual playlist!!


	8. The Bad Touch

Hubert still didn’t quite understand what had prompted him to do this. Neither did Edelgard, apparently, who had called him straight away after he told her he was going to visit Ferdinand at his house. She blanched, going on about how Hubert hadn’t visited anyone but herself in so long - as if Hubert didn’t already know that. Hubert had brushed her off, making promises to tell her all about Sunday but warning her that it was only a poster-making day, nothing exciting was going to happen.

Judging from the snark in Edelgard’s voice she didn’t believe him.   


The call ended soon after that, because she had a date to go to and “Byleth is here now! But have fun, and remember- be safe!” pressing end on the call before Hubert could get a word in.

Be safe!  _ Bah _ ! As if anything would happen, Edelgard has her head in the clouds.

"-and this is my room,” Ferdinand says as he pushes open a door with the word ‘Ferdie’ plastered onto the wood - it’s rather childish, but also rather sweet, and Hubert wonders subconsciously who had decided upon the nickname ‘Ferdie’.

He follows Ferdinand inside, watching as he carefully puts the packet of tea Hubert had given him on his desk (“how did you know I liked the southern fruit blend so much, Hubert!” Ferdinand had beamed at him, to which Hubert’s heart had jumped in response.)   


His eyes pull back from where Ferdinand stood to sweep across the rather large bedroom, attempting and failing to stop his eyes from widening as he takes it all in. The walls are covered in frames that contain horse-riding diplomas and there's hooks screwed into a row on the wall where various medals and ribbons hang.    
  


They’re mostly blue, some quite large in scale - and Hubert wonders if they’re all for placing first in races. There are very few posters on the walls, unlike Hubert's own room which is littered in bands, except - and _ of course  _ he likes her - a small Taylor Swift poster. Why Hubert was surprised that he was into her music he didn’t know, it made sense.   


Hubert’s eyes are drawn through the room to a pinboard which has another set of gold medals. When Hubert steps closer to lift one up (and they were so  _ weighty _ in his palm) he sees that they were for water polo. It would be impressive if not for being so completely amusing that all these winnings came from some kind of horse riding.   


Impressive, if not for the fact that it meant Ferdinand was a genuine  _ horse boy _ .   


Yet it  _ did _ make sense, the rich daddy's boy that he was.

He must have had a smile prickling at his lips because Ferdinand’s brows pull into a glare in response, lips pouting adorably  _ (adorably?!) _ \- “you must be jealous that I excel in a sport,” he says proudly, almost as if it were planned and had expected Hubert’s reaction from the moment he had invited him over three days ago.

Hubert’s lips quiver in amusement and he glances to Ferdinand over his shoulder, “I always suspected you liked horses but this-” a bookshelf catches his eye, one covered in horse figures and statues, and he turns to walk across to it despite Ferdinand’s pout - carefully picking up one of the slightly larger trophies.

The trophy depicts a person playing polo atop a horse, and as Hubert lifts it higher to read the fine writing on the little bar he notes it’s even heavier than the medals. It’s a professional looking prize, and Hubert can only assume it was won in a high league area of the sport. It glints in the light when he shifts it, noting how polished and dust free it is as he gently runs his thumb across the name and year engraved. 

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** _ 1st Place_ **

_ Ferdinand Von Aegir / 03/10/1998 _ _   
_ _ _

And as impressed as he is, he can’t help but feel a bit sad. He had always assumed that Ferdinand had had a relatively relaxed childhood in comparison to Edelgard and himself but this just proves him wrong. Ferdinand’s father seemed just as intent on using his son for his personal gains or publicity as his own father had, trying to enroll Hubert into music classes or get him into various sports, there was even an attempt to make him the next maths prodigy child. Nothing had ever stuck, Hubert was far too intent on rebelling against everything his father had ever wanted.

It was like they were two sides of the same coin.   


“you’ve been doing this your entire life?” Hubert asks softly, turning back to Ferdinand who hesitates before nodding slightly.   


“I- yeah. I like it though.” Ferdinand says back, and Hubert wonders if that was just something that was engraved into him to say or if he actually enjoys it. “That’s my first trophy. When I was about six.” He says finally, “I don’t usually let people touch it but-”

But?

The words remain unspoken and Hubert carefully places the trophy back onto the shelf, “my father made me learn piano.” He admits, “I have a few awards but nothing like this-” he turns and gestures to Ferdinand’s room, stomach erupting in butterflies as Ferdinand laughs softly, rubbing at the back of his neck in embarrassment.   


“Yeah I- um, horse riding was sort of like an escape for me. The.. trophies were a bonus because I was so good at it-” Ferdinand shuffles in his spot like he’s just realised what he’s said - hurriedly trying to talk himself down again, “I prefer just taking my girl ou-”

“Your  _ girl? _ ”

Ferdinand’s cheeks darken, “No my- My pony, her name is Penny-”   


“Penny the Pony.” Hubert repeats, and now Ferdinand is laughing, and Hubert has his own smile on his face from his laughter, and Ferdinand’s bright white teeth as he grins, and his adorable dimples amongst the freckles that stand out against how pink his face is getting.   


He looked like the personification of sunshine.   


“Stop - stop,” he laughs, “As I was trying to say- I  _ prefer _ taking Penny out on long rides rather than the competitions, they are just unnecessary stress. It… is so much more relaxing to disappear for a few hours with her.” Ferdinand wipes at his eyes as his laughter fades off, and Hubert nods in understanding.

It made much more sense now, Ferdinand’s need to escape was something Hubert could empathise with completely. It was the reason for him getting his bike so soon.   


He opens his mouth to speak again when he notices Ferdinand staring at something, so Hubert turns to follow his gaze and - oh,

"That's my jumper," Hubert says, because it was. It was also folded neatly and sat atop Ferdinands pillow.

Ferdinand barely manages a nod- face paling, "yeah um- I put it there to remember to.. give it to you. When you came over. Today. Allow me to just get it for you."   


His story seems to add up, yet Hubert can't help but feel - as Ferdinand grabs the hoodie and passes it back to Hubert, that there's a completely different reason as to why it's on his bed.   


Something passes between them as their eyes meet when Ferdinand passes the jumper back, mouth gaping open with a sentence lost in thought, "um, well- I.. anyway--" he fumbles over the words in a display that is so out of his usual composed character yet so completely endearing that Hubert finds he doesn’t mind why the jumper was on Ferdinand’s bed, “w-we should, um, we should work on the posters now. Right?”   


Hubert nods, the muscles of his jaw clenching with another hidden laugh as Ferdinand gestures to a spare chair for Hubert to take a seat on as he gathers various markers and paper. Hubert sits, looking up at the pinboard above Ferdinand’s desk and noting the various sketches of horses (‘happy birthday! from ignatz’ reads one of them) and the blurry printed phone-selfies of Ferdinand and Dorothea smiling away.

Ferdinand finally sits, and they fade into a comfortable silence albeit Hubert’s soft tease about “try not to make the posters too horse themed, okay?” and Ferdinands flustered nods and agreement - finding he quite enjoys to make Ferdinand panic and blush.

They’re not the greatest artists of their year but the posters start coming together, especially with the glitter Ferdinand is adding around the edges and his cursive, swirly writing across the page.   


“Does it look okay?” Ferdinand breaks the silence, holding up his poster in front of his face, ignoring the bits of glitter that fall from it. 

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ 2008 Seniors Prom!  _ _   
_ _ _ _ _ _ $10 Dollar Tickets Available at the Booth during Lunch. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ Bring your date for $5 off!   


  
  


Hubert’s eyes skim across it before he nods - “I like it.” He agrees, “it’s colourful, playful, just the sort of thing everyone eats up.”   


Ferdinand beams at the praise, placing it back down on the table- “Edelgard told me to write the part about the five dollars off-” He trails off, and Hubert glances back down to his own work, feeling Ferdinand practically bursting beside him with the need to ask something- “Do-.. do you have a date?” He says, and Hubert scoffs,   


“I’m not even sure I will go. I’m not particularly one for dances.”   


Ferdinand hums in agreement, and Hubert’s eyes flicker to him, noticing the way he fiddles with a pen between his long, freckled fingers (where didn’t the boy have freckles?!)

“Do you?” Hubert asks, and Ferdinand looks back up at him - seemingly surprised by the continuation of the conversation, “Have a date, I mean.”

“O-oh. No. No, haha..” He laughs it off, but he almost looks sad behind his gaze, “No one really likes me like that and I was going to see if me and Dorothea could go together but she-.. Has her own plans.”

Hubert isn’t sure why he’s relieved that Ferdinand doesn’t have a date, but he is. “Edelgard and I would have gone together but I’m sure she - has someone else in mind now.”   


Ferdinand nods slightly, eyes lingering on Hubert before trailing back to his work where he begins to sketch over the same line again. Hubert feels his stomach twist as the silence takes over this time, and he purposefully glances away - wondering why their proximity was suddenly making him so nervous. 

“Do you mind if I put on some music?” Hubert asks after a few moments, sick of the quiet as it slowly drained him, grateful of Ferdinand’s quick nod back.

He reaches across the desk, quickly clicking on the switch and letting out a soft breath as music fills the void in the room- nerves calming down immediately. Yet as the beat picks up and the current song plays, Ferdinand looks up to stare straight ahead- lips crinkling in what Hubert couldn’t tell was laughter or horror. 

_ I’d appreciate your input _

Hubert, and oh what sweet innocence it had been, was unaware of what song was playing, looking down to focus on his work, unsure why Ferdinand was sniggering. But, as the lyrics started to sound he froze in place, muscles tensing as he wondered what he had done so wrong in a past life that the universe would forsake him with a song like this.

_ Sweat, baby, sweat, baby sex is a Texas drought  _

_ Me and you do the kind of stuff that only Prince would sing about _

_ So put your hands down my pants and I'll bet you'll feel nuts,  _

_ yes, I'm Siskel, yes I'm Ebert _

As if things hadn’t been awkward enough between them.

_ And you're getting two thumbs up _

_ You've had enough of two-hand touch, _

_ You want it rough, you're out of bounds _

_ I want you smothered, want you covered, _

_ Like my Waffle House hash browns _

_ Come quicker than Fed Ex,  _

_ Never reaching apex like Coca-Cola stock _

_ You are inclined to make me rise _

_ An hour early just like Daylight Savings Time _

Hubert wishes the floor would swallow him up.

_ You and me baby ain't nothin' but mammals _

_ So let's do it like they do on the Discovery Channel _

_ You and me baby ain't nothin' but mammals _

_ So let's do it like they do on the Discovery Channel _

He let a hard breath out through his nose, absolutely mortified as the song continued, gripping so hard on the poor pencil in his hand that his knuckles began to go white.

Ferdinand’s lips quiver in what looks like a cross between humour and embarrassment as he goes back to work trying to best ignore the song, making Hubert wonder how he's mortified by a trophy being touched but not by a song preaching about having sex like an animal.

Yet if Ferdinand could listen to it without reacting then Hubert could deal with it too, it was just a song. He lets out a soft breath, trying hard to focus on his work in front of him as the next verse plays.

_ Love, the kind you clean up with a mop and bucket _

_ Like the lost catacombs of Egypt, _

_ Only God knows where we stuck it hieroglyphics _

_ Let me be Pacific, I want to be down in your South Seas _

_ But I got this notion that the motion of your ocean, _

_ Means small craft advisory _

_ So if I capsize in your thighs, high tide, be minus five, _

_ You sunk my battle ship please turn me on, _

_ I'm Mr. Coffee with an automatic drip _

_ So show me yours I'll show you mine "Tool Time" _

_ You'll love it just like Lyle _

_ And then we'll do it doggie s-- _

Hubert gives up on his promise to himself not to react as he shoves his finger into the off button, eyebrows twitching as he hears Ferdinand stifle a laugh.   


“That’s enough of that,” Hubert says and sends a glare the radios way as if it had betrayed him - what was up with radios and playing songs at the wrong time?! He ignores the soft laugh from Ferdinand that he tries desperately to muffle with his hand, and the tear he wipes away from the corner of his eye.   


Hubert can hear him take a deep breath as if trying to calm himself, ready to snap at him to ask what he finds so funny when Ferdinand speaks, voice a bit wheezy, “ _ Claude  _ was playing that song at the party,” it's an attempt to ease the awkward silence falling across them, but only succeeds in aggravating Hubert further as he switches his glare from the radio to Ferdinand,   


“You  _ would _ know  _ all  _ about Claude-” he snaps back in a tone nastier than what he had meant. Immediately feeling a wave of guilt, wash across himself as Ferdinand’s laughter disappears, replaced with furrowed brows, looking as if he were a kicked puppy.   


Hubert’s heart aches but his annoyance stays, so unable to feel anything other than disdain for Claude. He was a cocky little scheming bastard that everyone seemed to hold in such high regard, for a reason that Hubert was never sure of. Hubert had always felt unnerved by him, and it was absolutely not to do with or related to in any way with what had happened at the party. Absolutely not.

“I’m sorry-?” Ferdinand starts, brows furrowing in confusion, “-I just thought the song was funny, I am unsure what that comment is supposed to mean...” he trails off, looking like he’s struggling to find more words to add.

Hubert wets his bottom lip and turns his head back down to the table, because as much as he disliked Claude (or was jealous of him, his brain unhelpfully supplied) he was supposed to be making friends not enemies. That, and the fact that hurting Ferdinand was something he was coming to realise was mortifying, it was almost like he cared for his well being and happiness, a thought that felt foreign to him.

“That was uncalled for. You don’t have to apologize- I’m the one who needs t-  _ I’m _ sorry _ . _ ” Hubert finally says, and he can feel Ferdinand’s lingering gaze on him becoming even more confused.   


Yet he can see out of the corner of his eye, a small smile brushing across Ferdinand’s plump red lips as he nods, “Apology accepted.” He shifts in his seat as if he wants to reach out to comfort Hubert now- like Hubert was the sad one that had just been snapped at!   


When Hubert finally turns to meet Ferdinand’s gaze again, it’s soft, ridiculously understanding - almost adoring in the way he watches, and it’s nothing like what Hubert deserves. Not for just this remark, but  _ all _ the years of resentment he had put Ferdinand through when he had just wanted to make friends. When he had been suffering through the same loneliness and pain that Hubert and Edelgard were feeling too, except Ferdinand had to do it alone.   


Because Hubert wouldn’t give him the time of day to see if he was different from his father.

How Ferdinand could forgive so easily Hubert did not understand, he always had such trouble himself accepting apologies or seeing someone else's side.

Maybe it was Ferdinands optimism that kept him going, his ability to bounce back from situations. Surely he would be wearing thin by now, Hubert thinks, dreading whoever may be in his path when he finally snaps.   


Something prickles under Hubert’s skin and he lets out a slow breath as he urges himself not to scratch at where his skin itches, feeling oddly claustrophobic in such a large room.

“Do you want to go get lunch now?” Ferdinand suggests, and Hubert wonders if the suggestion was because Ferdinand could tell he was uncomfortable. He sends a quick nod back in agreement, thankful as Ferdinand’s bubbly attitude picks up and he starts to lead the way downstairs.   


He’s rambling about something and Hubert finds himself focusing more on the soft breaths between Ferdinand’s words and the clicks his shoes make each step rather than what he talks about. It eases the tension between them, and therefore eases the anxious feeling biting at his gut.

Ferdinand holds the door as Hubert walks out, taking a long breath of fresh air and beginning to feel himself calming down. Ferdinand pauses to lock the door behind him as Hubert continues to his bike, grabbing the helmet from where it's attached to the seat when he pauses, unable to hear Ferdinands constant chattering anymore.

Hubert glances over his shoulder in confusion, only to see Ferdinand standing as if he's been stuck to the ground, "are you coming?" Hubert asks as Ferdinand speaks at the same time, “What are you doing?”

They both pause, and Hubert gestures to his bike; “I'm going on my bike."

There's a pause before Ferdinand replies, “Why?”   


Hubert squints in confusion, “To go to the shops-- what are you talking about?”

Ferdinand shifts in his spot - taking a hesitant couple of steps forwards, “Do I.. come with you?”

“Do you plan on walking?”

Hubert turns back to his bike, realising now he has only the one helmet. He hears Ferdinands soft footsteps approach and sighs to himself, holding the helmet out. "Put this on."

"What about yo-"

"-Put it on!"   


"Okay! okay!" Ferdinand quickly takes the helmet, assumably putting it on as Hubert throws a leg over the bike, turning the key so it rumbles to life and waiting for Ferdinand to get on too.

And then waiting some more.

"Ferdinand- you do realise you need to get on the bike, right?"

He can't see the blush on Ferdinand’s cheeks because of the helmet, but he can surely imagine how pink he must be as he shuffles closer, "I know--" comes his muffled voice, tentative hands reaching out slowly for Hubert's shoulders to use as support as he manages to climb onto the bike, jumping slightly when Hubert revs the engine.

"you might want to hold on tighter than that," Hubert suggests, so very thankful that Ferdinand is back to being the flustered, awkward one. His hands are hesitant as they slide down Hubert’s back- sending shivers through Hubert’s body as they grip onto the sides of his shirt. He revs his bike again in response, kicking off from the ground in an attempt to ignore how his heart skips a beat as Ferdinand grips tighter.   


He speeds up as he gets out of the driveway, trying to tell himself that - as he swerves sharply around the corner - it’s not because he wants Ferdinand to hold him tighter - which Ferdinand does. His arms slide around Hubert’s waist as he holds on for dear life, his helmet pressing into Hubert’s back as he leans close in fear.

It feels good, having someone pressed so closely behind him that is, feeling fingers dig into his sides and palms that are hot press against the t-shirt he wears. He wonders if he’s imagining things or not, but even as he slows down on the bike as they near a big road he can feel Ferdinand’s hands tighten, resting on his abdomen.   


It’s probably just his imagination.   


Ferdinand slowly begins to relax behind him and Hubert can feel the shift in position in his position as his chest presses against Hubert’s back close enough that Hubert can feel his heart thumping. His arms coming to wrap more comfortably around Hubert’s waist, making his gut twist, even more so as Ferdinand’s legs move to get more comfortable too, his thighs - which feel ridiculously solid - brushing against Hubert’s as he rearranges himself.   


It’s definitely not his imagination.   


But Hubert doesn’t think he minds it anyway.

Ferdinand’s hands shift and Hubert’s breath hitches - so glad for the wind rushing by loudly that masks the noise. His stomach tightens under the fingers as they grip onto his shirt as he turns another corner, finding he misses the warmth of Ferdinand’s palms so he pushes backwards slightly, the curve of his spine fitting perfectly against Ferdinand’s chest in a silent encouragement for Ferdinand to open his hands again.   


They stay pressed together for longer than they should have, longer than what could have been brushed off as an accident or because Ferdinand was scared. It was completely on purpose, and they both knew this, and they both knew that they had both enjoyed the closeness.

All too soon Hubert pulls up into a park at the mall and slowly Ferdinand draws his hands back, all the warmth leaving with him as he shifts his body away. Hubert tries  _ hard _ not to miss the touch, turning to glance over his shoulder as Ferdinand pulls the helmet off his head, orange hair that has come out of it’s bun adorably disheveled and partly hiding his eyes. Hubert can’t help but think that the best word to describe him would be  _ beautiful _ .

Hubert is unable to hold back his smile, feeling a strange comfort inside of him despite the new feelings, reaching for the helmet in silence as Ferdinand holds it out, both of them jumping slightly when their fingers brush as what feels like a bolt of electricity passes through them.   


They both look up at the same time, and Ferdinand’s gaze is heavy, his emotions so completely raw and Hubert can’t help but feel like he’s being dragged into a pot of honey that are Ferdinand’s eyes.

It’s like he has been smacked across the face with feelings as Ferdinand pulls his gaze back - not wanting anything more but to be back in the warmth of his amber gaze.   


No--

“Shall we go eat?” Ferdinand breaks the moment that’s only happening in Hubert’s head, and he nods. It feels as if there’s a frog caught in his throat as he follows, almost going into panic-mode because there’s no way he can actually be crushing on Ferdinand. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you my lovely @witchycryptid for beta'ing my work!!! I luv u!!
> 
> I also wanted to throw a quick shout out and give lots of love to @_plasbat and @raypilley for drawing some scenes from this fic. Please go give them lots of love! If anyone else draws from the fic I would love to see it to please make sure to tag me on twitter @jinxed_it 
> 
> AND finally shout out to @moxagita for the song suggestion this chapter uwu
> 
> https://twitter.com/_plasbat/status/1162288519672238080  
https://twitter.com/RayPilley/status/1162755295686217728


	9. This Charming Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a long wait! I've been working on so much cosplay stuff (the con is in a week oops.) Thank you to my lovely beta @witchycryptid for having a look at this for me <3

Edelgard wanted to rip her hair out. She could feel her usual, composed self slipping away as everything that could possibly go wrong with prom; was going wrong.   


Dimitri had apparently come up with an idea overnight for what the prom should look like-  _ the goody two shoes he was _ . The problem was that the teachers liked Dimitri’s idea better. Because it was  _ safer _ , it was what they had done every year, unlike the big-revolutionary-fuck-you to the education system that Edelgard wanted to throw herself.

It was beyond annoying, especially due to the fact that Dimitri had his little following of jocks that supported his every word, and that her own friend - Hubert - was being completely useless. It wasn’t that she was upset that he had found another friend, it was great! But she really needed the extra help to persuade the teachers to do it her way.

Edelgard sighed, flopping down in a huff on her bed and reaching across for her phone, sliding the screen up and going to message Hubert before pausing, and clicking on the name above it.   


**EDELGARD [01:02PM]: ** **   
** I’m going insane right now.

**BYLETH [01:03PM]: ** **   
** wdym? r u ok?

The text comes back quickly, and Edelgard smiles to herself, rolling onto her stomach and typing back

**EDELGARD [01:03PM]:   
** just been in a skype meeting with loser mc loser all morning. He’s being a pain.

**BYLETH [01:03PM]:   
** dimitri?

**EDELGARD [01:04PM]:   
** yeah, lol

**BYLETH [01:04PM]:   
** do you wanna come over and forget about it for a while?

Edelgard pauses, fingers hovering over the buttons. Byleth had been to her house a few times now _ sure _ , but she had a sickly father that never left his room.  _ Not _ two parents who would probably want to interact and speak with her. 

**EDELGARD [01:08PM]:   
** will ur dads be home?

**BYLETH [01:09PM]:   
** course. they don’t mind tho.

It was like they were taking the next step in their - friendship? relationship? They had known each other for only a couple of months and it wasn’t like they had officially stated they were dating, but Byleth had definitely been flirting with her - or what seemed like flirting. Unless Byleth spoke like that to all their friends and they didn’t actually have feelings for Edelgard in the same way that Edelgard knew she had feelings for Byleth!

She stared at her phone, tapping it against her forehead before scowling and typing back before she could regret it.

**EDELGARD [01:11PM]:   
** Okay, sure. I’ll be there soon.

Nerves pool in her stomach, and as she climbs into her car she wonders if she’s doing the right thing. It was not only her fear of meeting Byleth’s dads. Not only her fear of getting too close. Simply the all-consuming fear and guilt, that if by some chance they  _ do _ end up becoming something…  _ more _ . That she’d only be dragging them into her own problems.   


Problems that don’t just concern the prom but her history, her years of emotional trauma and suffering that have kept her from making friends and connections until now. Hubert however, was different. Hubert had been there with her during the fire but Byleth? Byleth was a perfectly good human being she was bound to ruin. 

She rubbed roughly at her eyes upon pulling up to Byleth’s house, quickly glancing into the rear view mirror to make sure there weren't lines of mascara smudged across her cheeks, before climbing out of the car to see a waving Byleth at the front gate.

And it was as if any and every problem disappeared upon seeing their face, eyes so bright and blue - an aura of calm covering them despite their excitement. Edelgard’s heart felt like it had jumped into her throat at the way their hair was pulled back so perfectly careless into a short ponytail, their shirt rolled up to their elbows - standing there looking both handsome and beautiful so effortlessly.

Byleth opens the gate, and somehow immediately senses Edelgard’s worry because they’re taking her hand in their own to give it an affirming squeeze, "I  _ promise _ , they will love you."   


Edelgard hesitates slightly, but nods, finding she believes Byleth’s words despite the nervousness that pools in her stomach, “Okay.”

Byleth pulls her towards the front door as a smile crosses their face, opening the old looking fly screen for Edelgard to walk in first, hand shifting to lightly press against her back as a guide.   


Edelgard is immediately greeted with a feeling of warmth and  _ love _ as she glances upon the rows and rows of family photos hung up on the walls, and the further she walks inside the more she feels her heart race, as it was such a sudden contrast from her own home which only felt cold.   


Byleth’s hand pushes lightly on her back to urge her to continue walking - the old wooden floor boards creaking under her steps - until the hallway opens up into a kitchen. The walls were bright, painted a light blue, and little yellow and orange flowers sit in vases along the window sill contrasting the shade. Everything looked antique, cluttered yet at the same time not overwhelming, as though everything had its place.

Small, funny looking figures decorated the tops of the wooden cupboards, beads hung from the curtain rods where mismatched curtains hung too. There were an odd amount of little cross statues upon one shelf - a chalkboard propped up against one wall with a Bible verse written across it in cursive writing. Edelgard had never picked Byleth or Jeralt (or Jeralts mysterious, unnamed husband) as being religious, but she supposed there's no reason they couldn't have been.   


Her eyes followed the decorations around the room, eyes wide and curious, only stopping when she landed upon Jeralt - standing in front of an antique looking oven with a metal pan in hand, pouring what looked like pancake mix into it.   


He turns at the sound of footsteps, and as he spots Edelgard his face splits into a big grin, “Edelgard! Nice to finally meet you.” His eyes crinkle at the corners, and his smile must be contagious because Edelgard is unable to stop her own lips pulling into a shy looking smile, managing to raise her hand in a small wave back.   


Jeralt wears a pink apron over a t-shirt and dusky orange cardigan, the words 'world's best daddy’ hand drawn across it, and even that seems to be comically perfect as he holds a sizzling frying pan and a spatula, amongst his very homey-kitchen.   


“ _ Dad _ , I made you that apron when I was a kid. Why do you wear it.”

“ _ I _ like the apron!” A voice calls - who Edelgard can only assume is Byleth's other father - his words followed by Jeralts hearty laughter and Byleth’s groan. 

It’s such a different atmosphere than Edelgard’s own home - so much warmth radiated from Jeralt and Byleth, even despite the teasing between them.   


There were so many memories on display too, as if they weren't embarrassed of their past or the love they held for one another - the fridge was covered in drawings from Byleth’s childhood and photos of them growing up, like Jeralt truly cares for them--   


Edelgard blinks herself back into reality as she feels a hand rest against her back, glancing to Byleth who is speaking again, “-I’m gonna take Edelgard up to my room to get some work done, call me when the pancakes are done, kay? I’m kinda hungry.”

“Okay, Kinda Hungry!”

“--Dad!”

Finally Edelgard's other dad walks around the corner - forcing Edelgard's mouth to drop into a surprised gasp as she finds she recognises him as the very-religious vice principal of her school -  _ Father Seteth _ .

His mouth is open, ready to speak when their eyes meet momentarily, and in that moment he stills in his movements of tying up his clerical collar, as if he hadn’t realised the Edelgard that was visiting was the one from the school he worked at. However he forces his gaze away and clears his throat, glancing towards Jeralt- “-I’m on Byleth’s side with this one. That was awful.”   


He goes to take a seat, but stumbles as Jeralt’s reaches out to grab him by his black suit jacket and gives him a tug into his side, grinning as Seteth stumbles, “You love it-” Jeralt replies as he leans forwards to press a kiss to his cheek, mumbling the words against his skin.

“I have  _ church _ tonight, Jeralt, don’t crease my jacket--” But his voice is fond, even as he pushes away slightly.   


It’s such an open display of affection, something Edelgard thought to only exist in fairy tales. Especially for someone like Seteth - a vice principal and a minister of his Church - highly respected amongst his groups. He couldn’t have always been that open, right? Edelgard wondered the love story behind their relationship.   


“-anyway, we should get going,” Byleth’s voice cuts through Edelgards musings, and she looks up to see Jeralt smacking Seteth lightly on the butt as he walks away, sending a glare over his shoulder to Jeralt who just winks in response before turning back to his pancakes.

It’s a ridiculously warm gesture, and Edelgard can only hope to meet someone who loves her like that in the future.

“El-” Byleth says, giving her arm a slight pull, their own cheeks blushing red, “let’s leave them before things escalate-” they say, and Edelgard surprises herself (and Byleth, apparently) with a soft laugh, finally allowing Byleth to drag her off to the room, leaving behind the soft teases Jeralt is mumbling to Seteth, and Seteth’s soft shushing.

Byleth rolls their eyes again as they finally get to their room, pushing the door open to let Edelgard through, “I’m sorry for them- they can be a bit much sometimes.” They say, closing the door as Edelgard steps inside, ushering her across to their single bed and kicking off their shoes in the motion of laying down.

Edelgard follows in queue - just a bit more carefully, undoing her shoelaces slowly before sitting down on the bed, brushing her skirt out as she glances to Byleth who is now propped up against the headboard and is giving Edelgard a look so intent that her cheeks go rosy when she finally replies, “I don’t mind, it’s.. Nice, actually,” she admits, “my family were.. Never the type for affection.”   


Byleth shifts, and Edelgard smiles as she feels one of their socked feet poking at her side, “come ‘ere.” They say back, patting their chest lightly in an invitation to cuddle.

To cuddle!

Edelgard’s cheeks darken, but she nods anyway, shifting across to lay down with them, resting her head on their chest and pressing her nose into Byleth’s side as a hand gently runs through her hair.   


It’s ridiculously soothing, and she smiles into Byleth’s chest.   


“I never realised that Father Seteth was.. Well, gay.” Edelgard admits after a few moments, stretching her arm out to hook it over Byleth’s stomach, heart speeding up as Byleth shuffles in closer, their legs entangling together.   


“No one but me, dad and his daughter - my sister - really know,” Byleth explains, shifting on the bed to rest their chin at the top of Edelgard’s head, “Might be best to.. Not mention it to anyone. He’s… out, I guess, but it’s hard.”

Edelgard nods slightly in understanding, smiling as Byleth’s arms wrap tighter around her shoulders tighter, fully encompassing her in their hug. It was secure - like Byleth would take care of anything that were to happen, - if felt as though if she stumbled, Byleth would be there to pick her up.   


It surprised her that it was the safest she could ever remember feeling, in all twenty years of her life.

“my family weren't always this affectionate." Byleth continues softly, "After my mother passed away.. I.. Didn’t know how to cope with my feelings, so I shut myself off from my dad.” Byleth’s arms grip just a bit tighter around Edelgard’s shoulders, “I’m speaking too much, I’m sor-”

“Don’t. I like to listen.” Edelgard promises, “please continue, Byleth.”   


Byleth nods slightly, “I went to therapy. Things got better.” They pull away slightly so they can look down at Edelgard, meeting her gaze, “Things  _ get _ better.”   


Edelgard blushes again - wondering if Byleth's words were a shot in the dark of if they knew something, - “my family are different-”

“Then I’ll be your family.” Byleth interrupts, the seriousness gone and replaced with a cheeky glint in their eyes, hands sliding up to cup Edelgard’s cheek, making her heart erupt into a million butterflies at the touch.   


“You’re ridiculous.” Edelgard says, pressing her face into Byleth’s shirt, blushing as they laugh, “tell me more about yourself, I like to hear about you.”

They nod, hand sliding back around Edelgard’s waist as they shift in closer again, leaving goosebumps in its wake as fingers splay over Edelgard’s hip, “Dad went through all that pain again when he met Seteth, I think it’s why he’s so affectionate with him now - making up for all that lost time while they had to keep their love a secret.”

Byleth's hand starts tracing circles around her hip as they continue, "dad never gives up. Even when it gets tough he's.. always there for the people he loves." There's a short pause, and Byleth's tongue drags across their bottom lip in thought - "Seteth fought for his love despite all the obstacles, he overcame the bad parts of the church and now he's leading a better example. I admire them both very much."   


Edelgard nods in understanding, "how long have they been together?" She asks softly, and Byleth laughs against her hair,   


"Maybe.. eight years. They met when they were in school together, but lost contact until Seteth's daughter Flayn, and I made friends."   


"It's a love story." Edelgard says eventually, "one with a happy ending."   


Byleth nods in agreement, going back to drawing circles against Edelgards hip as she speaks, "my own father was never so lucky, he's had a lifetime of pain and hurt." It feels as if shes giving away some part of her to Byleth as she admits this, and it's scary, but she finds she holds a strange trust in Byleth, one she's never felt in anyone else before.   


"My mother abandoned us when we were young, and after that day my siblings and I were raised our father and his brother until he…" she stills, because they  _ still _ don't have proof on who it was - but she was so sure in her heart it was his fault, "until our uncle betrayed us."   


Edelgard takes a slow, long breath, wondering how on earth she can fit so many years, so many events, into a simple story.

"My siblings they... perished in a fire when I was young." She barely flinches, there had been a time when it hurt to say, but the older she grew older, the more the pain was replaced by anger. Anger that fueled the revenge she wished to carry out against her uncle and Hubert and Ferdinand’s fathers, "we suspect my uncle had some part in it "   


"I'm sorry." Byleth says softly, pulling back to look at Edelgard, eyes stormy. 

"I'm the one who's sorry, Edelgard replies, "I shouldn't burden you with my past."

"I want to listen. I want to help."

It made her feel warm, it felt different from a simple crush. This was more than that, this was  _ belonging _ .

"It's why Hubert and I were so close - his father and my uncle were close and - God, I can't believe I just - straight up told Hubert I needed him to be less in my life," she looks down from Byleths eyes, “do you think I did the right thing?”

“I think you already know the answer to that question.”

Edelgard opens her mouth, but closes it again. She needed to remain true to her beliefs, and it wasn’t as if she had cut Hubert off _completely_, they were just spending less time together. It was good for Hubert anyway, he was starting to form his own connections.

“It’s all so much to think about, _plus_ I have the weight of the prom on my shoulders, I don’t even have a date for it - because me and Hubert usually go to these things together and I don’t have any friends aside him-”

“Edelgard.”

“-And the band that was meant to be playing, the Sappho Slayers, had a fight, apparently the two lead singers got into an argument-”

“El.”

“And not to mention the captain of the Blue Lions, Dimitri - has all these stupid ideas and the teachers are taking his side-"

“ _ Edelgard _ , will you be my date to the prom?”

Edelgard stops talking immediately, mouth slightly agape, “o-oh,” she says, like the genius she is.   


Byleth keeps on watching, waiting for an answer, but it’s like there’s something caught in her throat. And Byleth, so beautiful, with their short, mussed up hair pulled into a lazy pony tail, and curious-but-amused expression. They were so effortlessly handsome, so attractive - she thought. That was the last thing Edelgard could think about whilst her body moves on its own as she leans in to kiss them.

Byleth leans back in as if expecting it, hands rising to cup her cheeks and tilting her chin up as they kiss. Their hands are soft - gentle and encouraging as they shift to run fingers over the tops of Edelgards ears before their lips pull away with a soft smack.   


Edelgard opens her mouth to speak, but closes it again slowly - feeling like an idiot compared to  _ cool, composed Byleth,   
_

"Is that a yes?"

Edelgard smacks them gently on the arm in reply - stomach fluttering in embarrassment, "what do you think!" and Byleth just laughs, leaning back to kiss her forehead.

They stay like that for a while, until Byleth's gentle kisses against her forehead trail back to her lips, where soft pecks are pressed that turn into longer kisses. Heat pools in her belly and her toes curl in her socks as Byleths tongue runs across her bottom lip, wrapping her up in a wave of warmth and comfort. Her heart feels like it's ready to jump out her throat - and because of this her movements begin to get clumsier - especially as the kiss deepens.

It feels good though,  _ so good _ that her hands latch onto Byleths arm and squeeze as Byleth begins to trail kisses down her neck, sucking at the soft skin and forcing a soft intake of breath from Edelgards lips.   


Byleth pulls back slightly, gaze heavy, "have you-" and Edelgard shakes her head,

"Just.. kissing. And never anything that felt like- this," she gestures to their position, where their legs are pressed close together, surprised by her own braveness as fingers slip under the back of Byleth's shirt, exploring the dips and rivets of their back. Byleth's skin under her fingers explodes in goosebumps, and Edelgard’s hands explore higher- pleased to draw such a reaction from them as they press into the touches happily.   


"Have you?" Edelgard finally asks back, pressing herself up closer to Byleth's chest so her hands can stretch up higher under their shirt,

A nod, "I have." They reply softly, "I... don't want to rush you, I want you to be comfortable."   


Edelgards heart swells and she smiles, pulling her hands back from under their shirt to instead rest one against Byleth's face, watching as they lean into her hand like a cat, "Thank you," she says, and she finds she means it.   


The afternoon slowly shifts into the evening, the day wasted-but-not-wasted, spent kissing and running hands through each other's hair, laughing together until any of Edelgards concerns about the Prom flew out the window.

She learnt more about Byleths past too, just snippets that she was sure would become expanded upon later - smaller things, like their imaginary green-haired friend and their love of _eighties_ music, something that they had grown up listening to because of their dad, and bigger things - like how it had been to not only come out, but have their _dad _come out to them later.

The evening slowly turns into night, and Byleth’s hand strokes through her hair to the soft thrumming of a song, slowly blinking her eyes open to the glare of the bright sun streaming in through the window.    
  


__ Punctured bicycle  
On a hillside desolate  
Will nature make a man of me yet?

  
She could recall it being one of Byleth’s favourite songs, wanting to guess it was _something_ from ‘The Smiths’. It was nice, and upbeat, but calming at the same time.  
  


__When in this charming car  
This charming man  
  


Edelgard shifts -  _ stretches _ \- and presses a lazy kiss to the side of Byleth’s cheek, smiling as one of Byleth’s eyes crack open and they tilt their head down slightly for Edelgard to trail kisses up to their lips.

__ Why pamper life's complexity  
When the leather runs smooth  
On the passenger's seat?

Edelgard pulls herself up slightly onto her elbows, and she hovers her lips over Byleths, continuing to kiss them slowly, letting her teeth snag against Byleth’s bottom lip as they lay under Edelgard, content.    
  


__I would go out tonight  
But I haven't got a stitch to wear  
This man said "it's gruesome,  
That someone so handsome should care"  
  


There's a soft knock on the door, before it's creaking open - forcing a laugh from Byleth’s lips at the way Edelgard sits up so abruptly, fear striking her chest.   
  


__Ah !   
A jumped-up pantry boy  
Who never knew his place  
He said "return-”  
  


Seteth pokes his head through the door, and Byleth leans across to their speakers to click them off as Seteth glances between the both of them and their positions on the bed.

It’s almost as if he’s holding back from saying something, glancing between them both until his eyes shift back to Byleth's, "I just got home from church and your father has been cooking up a feast. He wanted me to come get you," He hesitates, pressing his lips together, glancing down, and then back up again, "I just picked up Flayn from her band practise too so no-.." he gestures between them, "- _ hanky panky,  _ while she's here."   


Byleth dips their head, lifting a hand up in a ‘thumbs up,’ “got it chief!” They say, struggling not to laugh, and Edelgard sees that Seteth can see this as they finally shut the door again. Byleth can barely hold on before they burst into laughter, turning the music back on.   
  


__ “-the ring"  
He knows so much about these things  
He knows so much about these things   
  
  


"I think he's going to murder me - or sacrifice me to the devil." Edelgard admits, and Byleth laughs again as they get up from the bed, holding a hand out to help Edelgard up - which she gracefully accepts.    
  


_I would go out tonight _   
_But I haven't got a stitch to wear _   
_This man said "it's gruesome _   
_That someone so handsome should care"_

"He's a big softie on the inside. Trust me." Edelgard presses her lips together tightly, unsure, as she flattens out her skirt when Byleth continues,   
  


_La, la-la, la-la, la-la, this charming man_   
_Oh, la-la, la-la, la-la, this charming man_

"-my name is that of a mythical Devil anyway, so  _ I guess _ you could say, you've already been sacrificed to one." Byleth reaches out to grab their hand as they reach for the door, giving Edelgard a tug back into their chest,    
  
  
_Ah !   
A jumped-up pantry boy _   
_Who never knew his place _   
_He said "return the ring"_   
  


"Flirt.” Edelgard teases, looking up as Byleth tilts her chin up with their long fingered hand, leaning in to press their lips together slowly, not so much in a _kiss_ but just resting against each other - noses brushing as they sway to the beat of the song as if they were in a music video, completely caught up in the moment until Seteth calls Byleth's name out again from the kitchen.   
  
They break apart, and Byleth reaches for her hand to pull them out the room - the music fading away smoothly as they make their way down the coridoor, grins plastered across their faces.   
  
  
_He knows so much about these things _  
_He knows so much about these things _  
_He knows so much about these things_  
  
  
Edelgard could never remember being so happy.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the art mitzuhara1, it's amazing and 100% canon  
> https://twitter.com/mitzuhara1/status/1169538018954240000
> 
> If anyone else has any art of the series please tag me on twitter @jinxed_it !! Or even if you wanna come hang out and chat about the fic I would love to hear anything you have to say about it.


	10. Complicated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you my dearest dearest betas and helpers and friends for letting me RAMBLE for hours about this fic and giving me so much help and love and advice i could kiss you all.
> 
> @dreisang @witchycryptid @diebreado1

“Two tickets, thank you.” Sylvain says, placing his hands down on the table and grinning at Hubert with a cocky smile that Hubert tries to ignore.

He rips the tickets off the little booklet, sliding them over with a long sigh of exasperation, voice dry, “twenty dollars, thanks.”

Sylvain immediately pouts, pulling his hands back to cross them over his chest, “What about the five dollar-!”

“You need to bring your _date _for the discount.” Hubert cuts him off, already regretting volunteering for sitting at this stupid table, talking to these stupid teens and their stupid dates. 

“But my date is giving me the silent treatment because I played with his sword collection! This was to try and win him back--”

“I don’t care,” Hubert deadpans.

Sylvain stands there with a shocked expression, and Hubert wonders what on _earth_ there was to be so confused about. It was doing his head in, and he felt like grabbing two handfuls of his hair and ripping it out, cursing himself for deciding to do this, wondering what had spurred him on to make this decision when he notices the orange hair of Ferdinand, curls bouncing on his shoulders as he hurries towards the stand. 

Hubert can suddenly remember why he had decided to volunteer.

His back straightens as Ferdinand approaches and lifts his hand in a small wave, Huberts hand lifting of its own accord to wave back. “Sorry I am late! I was held up speaking with a teacher-” he apologizes, dropping his bag to the ground and taking a seat, eyes glancing up to Sylvain after spotting the two tickets Hubert had crumpled in his fist, “Are these tickets for yourself and Felix?” He asks, and before Hubert can open his mouth to respond that he’s been _over this_, Sylvain is nodding,  
  
“Yes! They are.”

“That’s just fifteen dollars, thanks,” Ferdinand replies, to which Sylvain glances to Hubert with a wide smirk, handing over his money while keeping eye contact, making Huberts blood resume boiling.

“Thank you, Ferdinand.” Sylvain says, making a show of reaching across the table to pluck the tickets from Hubert’s hand, slipping them into his back pocket slowly, “say, do you have a date to prom yet, Ferdie?” He asks, hazel eyes flicking across to Hubert then back to Ferdinand again, lips still twisted upwards in a smirk.

Hubert’s eyes narrow back at him in suspicion; he didn’t trust Sylvain as far as he could throw him. He was hardly as scheming as Claude, but he was insistent and smart behind the charade of a dumbass he put on.

“Not yet!” Ferdinand said back, cheeks dark, “I was asked earlier though,” he smiles, and Hubert glances across to him quickly, unbelieving and just barely stopping himself from opening his mouth to speak when Sylvain laughs, saying something else that Hubert doesn’t quite catch as his ears ring, unwanted jealousy pooling in the pit of his stomach. 

Ferdinand is flustered, and for some reason that makes Hubert even more annoyed - all bright eyes and smiles when he waves Sylvain off which is the _opposite_ of the tight knot in his own throat. Someone already asked Ferdinand to the prom? The tickets only started going on sale today! 

Hubert would bet his life it was Claude. 

He would bet his life that Claude didn’t even like Ferdinand_ like that,_ he bet that Claude was just doing it for a _reaction_. Even so, even knowing it was all part of a big tease he couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable with it. It was as if Claude had the key to his innermost secret thoughts, or like they were both part of a big chess game that he was playing. 

Ferdinand seems unaware of the inner conflict Hubert is experiencing beside him, smiling away to himself and flicking through the little ticket book, humming something to himself before placing the book down and turning to Hubert - his bright eyes making Huberts heart stop in his chest. 

“Have we sold many tickets yet?” Ferdinand asks, pink lips pulled up into a relaxed smile while the skin around his orange eyes wrinkles. He looked like the epitome of autumn, the soft pinks, oranges and golden hues of his skin and hair, the darker browns of his freckles and the pastel blue polo he wore. 

He looked just like the fall trees outside, and the warm winds, and as the scent of whatever fruity tea he had been drinking whafted across Hubert’s nose, he was overcome with such feelings of lost summer days, afternoons spent sitting under the shade and cozy fires in the evening, that he had to look down. 

His breath felt stolen, and he glared at his hands, wondering how on earth someone could even _joke_ about asking Ferdinand out as a ploy. He was too beautiful for that. 

“A few.” He says back, still staring down at his hands, 

He can practically feel Ferdinand frown beside him, “if you don’t want to do this, I’m okay to do it alone-”

“It’s fine. I want to.” Hubert cuts him off and Ferdinand stills, the air between them tight until he eventually takes a deep breath and nods, going back to smiling at the students walking past. 

Hubert leans back into his chair, the scent of tea still so overpowering, filling his head with so many ridiculous thoughts that he couldn’t seem to shake, unable to help his eyes from slipping back across to Ferdinand as he perks up again, the awkward energy gone - as he chats and smiles to those to stop to ask questions. 

There’s occasionally girls that stop just to compliment his hair, which is loose today; cascading in bright ringlets down his back and over his shoulders. He blushes - flustered and awkward as he thanks everyone who does, and Hubert can’t help but note that _that_ doesn’t add to the ball of jealousy he feels.

It’s just _Claude_. 

"Hey boys!" an annoyingly familiar voice said. 

_Speak of the devil._

Up walked Claude, immediately pulling a sneer across Hubert's lips, which Claude noticed - _because of course he did_ \- and grinned wide to in return.

"You not feeling too good today, Hubie?" He asked, voice drenched in fake concern, and before Hubert could even reply Claude’s gaze had shifted to Ferdinand, "I'll get two tickets, thank you." He said, gaze _too_ heavy and _too_ intent on Ferdinand as he handed over his money, fingers lingering against his pale wrist as Ferdinand took the cash, _only fifteen dollars._

"Do you have a date yet?" Hubert interrupted, knowing he was just being petty because he was annoyed, "If you don't, it's full price." 

"I will by the end of the day, if I can help it." And the bastard _winks_ at Ferdinand, pulling another five dollars out his pocket and adding it to the fifteen as Ferdinand blushes- squirming in his seat. 

If looks could kill Claude would be dead, Hubert thinks as his hands fist against the table. He was uncomfortable with the insistent flirting - _totally_ not jealous of the way Claude was able to make Ferdinand flush as easy as that. It had been the same a couple months ago when Claude had waltzed over like he owned the hallways and given their t-shirts back, teasing and playing and flirting. 

It could only mean one thing - and that one thing was that he knew something. Something that Hubert wasn't even sure he knew himself. Something Ferdinand might not even know. And he was doing this on purpose to get a rise out of them. There wasn’t any other logical meaning for this behavior. 

Unless Claude _genuinely_ liked Ferdinand? 

Jealousy clenched at his heart again, and he turned to the side where they were still talking - feeling a bit like the Grinch as he watched Ferdinand laugh brightly, like a ray of sunshine. He observed as Claude said something _not funny at all_, the ease at which he tucked his hair behind his ear, how Ferdinand battered his eyelashes back, how Claude grinned and smirked and smiled. 

Maybe Claude _did_ genuinely like Ferdinand. 

"-no way, I’m never drinking again.” Ferdinand says back, cheeks still tinged pink, playing with a strand of his hair and curling it around his finger as Claude takes a seat on the edge of their table, 

“I can look after you. I promise.” 

Hubert bristles beside them like a cat as they gaze at each other, and a stray, unhelpful thought passes through his head to let him know _that maybe Ferdinand isn’t as _yours_ as you originally thought._

“I should let you go. Keep this. Find me if you change your mind.” He says, making a show of passing one of the tickets back across to Ferdinand before sliding off the desk, finally turning back to Hubert, “see you later too, lapdog!” His voice rings as he walks away, wiggling his fingers in a wave as Hubert seethes in rage. 

_Lapdog_. 

The cheek on that man!

Ferdinand speaks beside him and it drags Hubert's gaze away, noticing that he looks as uncomfortable as Hubert feels himself, fiddling with the ticket between his fingers and ripping at the corner of it.

"I do not think I am going... to... go with him.” He says quietly, placing the ticket back down on the table, laughing nervously - “No one has ever been that insistent-” he trails off, turning to Hubert and clearing his throat, “what do you think I should do?”

Hubert stills at the question.

How should he know what Ferdinand wanted? He hardly knew what he wanted himself! 

But he swallows, and his heart thump. _Maybe_ he’s being spurred on by Claude's flirting, and is projecting his jealousy in a way that he hadn't thought out the consequences of one hundred percent yet, but... “I think.. There’s someone better you could go with.” 

“Is there?” Ferdinand asks after a few moments, and Hubert swallows his nerves, and clears his throat. 

He was _really_ going to do this- “I think, that-..” his phone buzzes once, and then again, and he glances to where it sits on the table in front of them. And Ferdinand watches as if he’s begging Hubert to not reach for it, but he does anyway, flipping it open to see his father’s messages. 

**SPERM DONOR [02:12PM]:  
**Come straight home after school.  
  
**SPERM DONOR [02:12PM]:**  
Edelgards uncle has a job for you.

He stills as he reads the text, his mouth going dry, and whatever mad ideas he had been deluding himself with concerning Ferdinand had been swept from his head. Any positive feeling sucked away in an instant as the message sinks in. A job could mean _anything_, but whatever it was, Hubert knew it was a way for his father to favour from Volkhard, Edelgard’s uncle, because everything was a competition.

A quick glance to Ferdinand, who was now greeting another couple, made Huberts throat feel even tighter, and when he glanced back down at his phone to text his father back, reality crashed down harder upon him. 

It was unrealistic to think he could even entertain the idea of taking Ferdinand. It wasn’t even the fact that he was a boy, no; he was an _Aegir_. Even if he was a girl he’d still be out of bounds. 

Their fathers hated each other, constantly at each other’s throats and fighting for the spot as Edelgard’s uncle - the mastermind between the trio’s - first man. The more he stares at his phone the more he realises that maybe _that_ was why he had never attempted to make friends with Ferdinand, why he had written him off as annoying and overbearing so quickly. 

Because it’s what his dad had wanted.

He was suddenly filled with even more hatred for the man.

He slides his phone into his pocket without answering, and forces himself to calm his shaky breathing as he looks back to Ferdinand, now chatting away happily to Annette who has her hand threaded through Dedue’s arm - gripping to his bicep the best she could from her height. 

The way Ferdinand watched, Hubert knew he craved it, to be affectionate and loving in public, to fall in love like how they did in storybooks or Taylor Swift songs. 

It wasn’t something Hubert could ever give to him. 

Even if they did manage to work through the Vestra-Aegir situation with their dads, Hubert was far too fucked up to hold a stable relationship with someone - it would be _wrong_ to haul Ferdinand through his years of emotional trauma.

\--

It's finally their lunch break, having spent the entirety of their free time at the stand with only 20 minutes left now to eat, relax and get to class. 

The lunch hall is hardly busy, mind Linhardt asleep across a table and a few others still mingling. At their own table sits Edelgard beside Byleth, who perks up as they approach, "I didn't think you were going to allow him to take a lunch break, Ferdinand." She says, and Ferdinand laughs back as he sits down, looking as if he were on top of the world for some reason.

"I thought it best to keep him happy and fed," He replies, "He will be more compliant when we continue the stall tomorrow." 

Edelgard nods her head back, all smiles - Hubert can't remember seeing her so relaxed before. Like the constant tension in her shoulders has left her. He can't help but notice, too, that Byleth's hand is close to Edelgards with the backs of their hands touching, Byleth's index finger occasionally stroking over Edelgards.

Hubert can't help but feel a pang of jealousy, whether it was the ease of which they showed off their affections or something else, Hubert didn't know. 

“We better head off to class, Edelgard," Byleth says, giving her hand a gentle squeeze, "I needed to talk to Professor Hanneman before class." They add, and Edelgard nods, taking the last bite of her sandwich before standing up, "it's really nice to see you both finally hanging out, by the way." She says, letting Byleth walk off, smiling between both Hubert and Ferdinand, "I'll see you both later, better catch up!”

And then she's running off after Byleth, leaving Hubert with a sinking feeling in his gut. 

It's _nice_ to see them hanging out? What is that supposed to mean. Why is it _nice_? Why _finally_? Was his and Ferdinand's friendship the stuff of gossip now? 

His gaze slides down as Ferdinand waves them off, panic pooling in his stomach, tuning out Ferdinand as he starts rambling about _something_. Something that Hubert interrupts, his head feeling foggy. 

“Do you think it’s strange that we are ‘finally hanging out?’” Hubert asks, glancing to the side where Ferdinand is dipping a bread roll into his soup, half raising it to his mouth before stopping to turn to Hubert, 

“Not really. No.” He says, and takes a bite as Hubert looks away again, suddenly completely turned off his own food as the anxious feeling grows.

Ferdinand swallows and clears his throat, "I agree with Edelgard. I think it's nice." He says, lips prickling into a smile before he turns to finally face Hubert, brows drawing quickly in concern as he takes in Hubert's stiff posture and dark eyes. Ferdinand puts the roll down, smile gone and face suddenly turned serious, _worried_. Why was he worried? What did he have to be worried about?

“What.. about you, do _you_ think it is strange?” Ferdinand asks slowly, and Hubert shrugs to himself, answering too honestly - the anxiety shading what little awareness he had about emotional topics like this. 

“Yeah.” He admits, and the soft ‘oh’ from Ferdinand makes Hubert’s chest feel _tight_ and _wrong_. He glances back across to him, seeing that Ferdinand has shifted his own gaze to look down at his food, lips pressed together tightly. 

“Um… well, why do you think that.. it’s strange?” Ferdinand asks softly, his voice sounding strained, like all the cheer had been sucked out of him. Hubert doesn’t like it. He hates it, infact. It’s out of character; off putting for someone so usually optimistic to be so serious - even the contraction in his sentence seemed peculiar. 

But Ferdinand asked a question, and it wasn’t as if Hubert could take back the conversation now. It wasn’t as if he meant _‘strange’_ was a bad thing either. It was just odd to him how such a certain set of events had led to their friendship, of all things.

That is, if they were still friends.

The way Ferdinand sat, posture hunched over slightly - hands tightly fisted in his lap, turned to Hubert with a look of panic across his face - making it seem like he wanted to be anywhere but here with Hubert right now. To have any conversation but this one.

“We... have a lot of history, _our fathers_ \- Edelgard’s too. We had never been friends, we never connected with you, never wanted to, and then the fire--... your father had so much involvement.”

Ferdinand nods, his bottom lip sticking out a bit, looking almost as if he were going to cry. It shouldn't have been that sad to him, it was hardly new or surprising information- it was their truth.

“I am not.. My father.” Ferdinand managed to get out, wetting his lips, “-as you are not your father, and Edelgard is not hers.” He says softly, mouth opening and then closing again, trying to patch together what words he could manage. “I had assumed you would know that better than most.” Ferdinand continues, voice thick and on the edge of being broken.

Yet still, for some reason in that moment, Hubert couldn’t get it into his thick, _emotionally constipated_ head that now was the time to drop the conversation, count his losses or agree with Ferdinand that it was wrong of him to bring it up; to _apologize_. Ferdinand would have forgiven him too, he bet, they would have brushed it off as a misunderstanding and Hubert could have explained that he hadn't meant _strange_ as a bad thing - he would have said he was actually happy they were friends. 

Because he _was _happy they were friends. He actually _liked_ Ferdinand's company. 

But he didn't say any of that, and why? Maybe because he was so deep in a pit of self destruction, because anything good that happened to him he pushed away immediately. 

“You have no idea what happened on that night. ” Hubert says, feeling Ferdinand’s ache from beside him as he speaks, digging himself deeper into a hole that would just be harder for him to crawl out from when he eventually needs to.

Ferdinand’s jaw wobbles slightly, and he tilts his head up, trying to put on a brave face, “You did not let me. I _wanted_ to be there for the both of you-”

Hubert’s voice is like venom when he replies - Ferdinand doesn't deserve it, “What could you have done to help anyway?” 

“I could have-”

“What?” Hubert spits, “You could have found missing pieces of evidence to connect your father to the crimes? You could have turned your own family in to the police?” It’s cruel, and he knows it, and even as Ferdinand’s eyes widen and turn glossy from tears he can’t seem to stop himself - pent up anger coming out at the wrong person. 

The entirely wrong person.

“I _would _have.” Ferdinand promises softly, and Hubert’s eyes narrow at him before he turns away to glare into space.

“We both know you are too loyal to your family name.”

Silence.

Silence except for a soft sniffling, the sound of someone _broken_, and hurt, and confused. 

Ferdinand can’t even turn to look at him anymore, “Hubert I-..” his voice cracks and his jaw tenses, he shakes his head, pushing his plate away roughly and reaching under the table to grab at his bag, “I _hate_ my family name - I hate everything they stood for. The fact you can't see that --.. it _hurts_, Hubert." He pulls his bag up to his chest, hugging it.

“Then tell me, _Ferdinand. _Tell me something that you know about that night that can help us.” It's unreasonable. Even if Ferdinand had known something there's no way he could have remembered it on the spot light that.

More tears track down his freckled cheeks, “I _just_ wanted to be there for the both of you, I know how it feels to be alone-..” Ferdinand says it as if he’s trying to prove himself worthy. 

Hubert is still staring straight ahead, yet he can feel Ferdinand's gaze on him - almost unbelieving this was the same Hubert that had driven him around on the back of his bike. Even Hubert couldn't believe it, the previous week they had been so soft with each other. They had been so happy, so playful.

Hubert supposed this was just another in the long list of reasons why they would have never worked out. “You know _nothing, _Ferdinand_._ We didn’t - we _don’t_ need your emotional support. We don’t need your naivety. We just need the evidence-”

Ferdinand rubs at his eyes roughly, getting up from the seat on shaky legs - the beautiful autumn aesthetic he carried earlier soiled by Hubert’s anger, the happiness he held - the bounce in his step gone.

His own chest squeezes uncomfortably as Ferdinand struggles to get his backpack on, pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes like he’s about to break apart or that he's barely managing to hold it all in. Hubert almost wants to reach out and say _I'm_ _sorry_, _please_ _don’t go. I spoke wrongly. I didn't mean it_, but he can't find the words. 

Even if he could find the words, Ferdinand deserved someone better than him. It was better to break his heart now than keep up his charade of hope. 

“I thought you... liked me for _me_.” Ferdinand sniffles again, ignoring the tears on his cheeks, “but I see- w-why you befriended me all of a sudden now.”

Hubert can only watch as he reaches forwards to grab his tray, hands shaking as he holds onto it “I give up-- see you, Hubert. Please do not… Do not contact me again.” And then he leaves, and Hubert watches as the last of his curls disappears amongst the sea of people.

He can’t help but wait for him to glance back, or say something else, but he doesn’t. Its as if in that moment the world comes crashing down upon him. He had messed up, oh so completely ruined any chance of a friendship or anything more-- _Anything more_. 

Because he _had_ wanted more. He oh-so completely wanted _more_.

His vision feels blank, hands _numb_ \- and his ears ring in his skull except for a certain piece of music that seems louder than anything else, feeling like it’s stuck in his ears, teasing him and poking fun at him- 

_-and if, you could only let it be, you will see_

_I like, you the way you are_  
When we're, driving in your car  
And you're talking to me one on one but you become,

He hurts everywhere, and theres too many reasons why; it feels bad. And he shocked at how much regret pools in his stomach, how much he realises he misses Ferdinand already. 

Somebody else,  
'Round everyone else   
_You're watching your back_  
Like you can't relax  
You're trying to be cool  
You look like a fool to me  
Tell me

The lyrics ring louder in his ears, the other sounds of chattering and the end of lunch bell sounding dull as the song continued. 

_Why do you have to go and make things so complicated?  
I see the way you're acting like you're somebody else gets me frustrated_

Hubert didn't dare look up, worried he might find concerned gazes as he sinks his head into the table, hands fisting in his hair and gripping at it, the sensations of the strands tugging and pulling hardly noticeable as he grew numb all over.

_Lifes like this you,_  
And you fall, and you crawl, and you break  
And you take, what you get, and you turn it into

It was like Ferdinand was singing it to him. Who was even playing this damn music so _loud?!_

_Honesty and promise me I'm never gonna find you fake it_

He dragged himself up eventually, hauling his bag over the shoulder and starting to leave the lunch room, feeling mindless - 

_No, no, no_

He needed fresh air desperately, needed to get away from the thoughts in his head, the panic in his chest. He had never felt like this over someone else before, never _cared_ that much about someone else's feelings, about their _happiness_. 

He had never worried about fucking things up with someone, so removed from any bonds he had formed - save from Edelgard, who he trusted - who he _had_ trusted, because even now she had abandoned him because he was too much. 

Because he hurt everyone around him. 

He spoilt everything, even Ferdinand. 

_Especially Ferdinand_. 

He climbed onto his bike, breathing hard, not even remembering the journey outside. The revving of the engine brought some kind of clarity, before he lifted his feet from the ground, speeding off - unsure where he was going but knowing he needed to get away from it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some more ... AMAZING fanart by witchycryptid and dmrderaknc!!! Thank you both so much, I'm glad you're enjoying the side ships and characters as much as the main ones <3
> 
> https://twitter.com/WitchyCryptid/status/1170812311482916864
> 
> https://twitter.com/dmurderaknc/status/1170772972954673153


	11. Toxic

Life sucked.  


It absolutely sucked, and as Ferdinand laid down on his bed days later, he couldn't help the fresh tears falling from his eyes, soft sobs wracking his body as he presses his nose into his pillow.  


He knew he was being stupid. They hadn't even really been friends that long but he had believed that there was something there, especially since their trip on the bike - the way Hubert watched him so affectionately - their chats on MSN, where everything had seemed to be going so well.

Spoke too soon, though, for Hubert was not who Ferdinand has assumed him to be.

Of course he knew to some extent that Hubert had a lot of emotional baggage - he knew the stories of Hubert's childhood, how abusive his father had been - but there became a point where you were using your own emotions simply to lash out. What he had done was cruel and uncalled for.

If Hubert had felt that strongly about how strange their friendship was he could have talked calmly about it; Ferdinand could easily conversation like that - talking about feelings was one of the few things he was good at - he thought Hubert knew that.  


-And It wasn't as if Ferdinand himself didn't have a past of hurt and pain to deal with either. Sure, in comparison he supposed it wasn't as bad - but is there really a point in comparing those types of things?  


His father had forever treated Ferdinand like the bane of his existence, as though nothing Ferdinand could ever do would make him proud - as if Ferdinand didn't sell away his years for him in singing lessons and riding lessons to please him. Lessons that ended with a swift slap and cold words that translated to "you're not good enough."   


It had been what inspired Ferdinand to some degree to be better than the man he called his father, be better than any Aegir before him.  


Be kind, be polite.  


Never let his pain affect anyone but himself.  


He sniffles again, rubbing at his eyes and shifting onto his side. 

The prom ticket sitting on the bedside table seemed to be beckoning him as he opened his eyes. It was held down by a book and shifted in the slight breeze from Ferdinand’s open window. Images of bright smiles and fuzzy compliments flashed in his eyes, and Ferdinand swallowed - chest feeling tight.  


It was ridiculously _nice_ to be flirted with so openly, so without care. And Ferdinand wasn’t naive, he knew Claude was just messing around (at least to some extent). But regardless, he doubted there was any ill will, that it was just for fun.

He reached out for the ticket, grabbing it and holding it above himself - Huberts face when he had received the invite had been so annoyed, lips pressed together and then, to top it off, he had suggested he knew someone better for Ferdinand to go with! Almost as if he was about to ask him for himself! And then to snap at him later and spout ridiculous statements about how strange their friendship was.  


As if that wasn’t a mixed message and a half.

Ferdinand let his eyes slip closed again as his heart stung, recalling the nasty words Hubert had spat at him. _Naivety, hah -_ Ferdinand thought_ \- as if he didn’t know exactly what was going on._

He forced himself to sit up in bed - slamming the ticket back on his bedside table in exchange for a tissue which he used to pat his eyes dry, deciding it was time to pull himself out of his misery of the past week and have a shower, put on a facemask and ignore the bad vibes.  


In the long run he was better off, and deep down he  _ knew _ it was time that he should move on, having suffered in the cold of Hubert and Edelgard’s shadow for too long, a crush that had gone too far.  


He forced himself out of bed, slipping off his over-sized horse-patterned pajama shirt as he did and dropping it in his washing basket as he made his way into the bathroom, looking up to meet himself with red eyes in the mirror.  


Fingers poked at his face, squishing his skin about and making a face at the puffiness of his eyes. His skin was without its usual glow because of a neglected morning routine during his week long depressive episode. With a sigh, he reached down to one of his drawers. As he pulled it open, to decide which facemask to use after his shower, his hand brushed across his hair trimming scissors - fingers stilling.  


Now that would _ certainly _ be a change.  


He gingerly curled his fingers around the handle, picking them up and noting how  _ heavy _ they felt in his palm, not with just the weight of the steel, but the implication behind them.  


Ferdinand had been growing his hair out for years, by accident too - planning to cut it all off again when he had overheard a comment. This comment, from Hubert; about how Ferdiannd’s ginger locks reminding him off a medieval prince - someone gallant and noble on a horse, was the deciding factor of keeping his hair long.  


In hindsight, Ferdinand realised Hubert had probably meant it as an insult. It never did make sense that Hubert  _ actually  _ liked something about him, as he had made very clear last week that he used to think Ferdinand was about as good as garbage.

Ferdinand pressed his lips together, readjusting the scissors in his grip before reaching to grab one of his still-braided pigtails, admiring it in his palm for the last time. He almost felt sad as he placed it between the blades of the scissors he held - raising them up to just below his ear then glancing in the mirror at himself - wondering if this was the right decision.

_But no, change_ _was good._

He pressed his lips together as he cut down, the scissors slicing through his pigtail, orange curls spilling from where it had been cut, as the band with the piggy-tail fell to his table. Quickly, as not to lose motivation, he did the same with the other, placing the scissors down as if burnt and then looking up.  


Loose curls cascaded around his cheeks, hair curling over his ears. He ran a hand through it - slowly pushing the hair around his ears behind them instead - before turning to the side to glance at himself from another angle. A trip to the hairdressers was definitely due to neaten it but it didn't look  _ awful _ \- just different.

Somewhat pleased, he ran another hand through it backwards to shake out any loose strands, nodding once more to himself before looking away to get into the shower.

His hair dried a lot quicker, Ferdinand noted as he held the dryer to it - running his hand through the short locks, admiring how different it made him look. There was a part of him who missed the length already, how much more fun it was to have long hair and the different ways he could braid or tie it - but regardless it felt like a much needed change.  


The ticket on the table caught his eye again, flickering in the breeze caused by his hairdryer. His stomach did somersaults, it felt like, and because of that Ferdinand forced his gaze away, continuing to stare at himself in the vanity and dry his hair.   


Claude was  _ not _ an acceptable rebound-crush to have. He was not acceptable in general to have as a crush.

Although, Ferdinand thought, as he glanced back to the ticket, it didn't mean they couldn’t mess around together. And he was feeling fresh with his new, short choppy locks of hair kissing his ears and the top of his neck - the curly bright strands of the fringe hanging over his eyes slightly.  


Ferdinand hesitated, thoughts of Hubert swirling around in his mind that he quickly shoved away as he put down his hairdryer, turning it off in favour of reaching to his phone and flipping it open. He clicked down to Claude’s number, given at the start of the year during their first club meeting (for emergency reasons apparently), opening his name up and sending a quick text.

  
  
**FERDINAND [11:12AM]:  
** Would you be free for dinner later?

He turned back to his mirror, reaching to take out an old tin of hair gel that hadn’t been touched in years when his phone beeped back, much quicker than expected.

**  
** CLAUDE [11:14AM]: **  
** For you? Of course :) 

**  
** FERDINAND [11:15AM]: **  
** Where should we meet?

**  
** CLAUDE [11:16AM]: **  
** I’ll pick you up at 5PM. I would tell you to wear something nice, but I know you will anyway.   
  


Crimson coloured Ferdinand’s cheeks and his stomach tied knots as he texted back.  
  


**FERDINAND [11:17AM]:** **  
** I’ll see you soon then!

_____________________

“I forgot to say, I like the hair.” Claude says as he pushes the door open for Ferdinand to leave the restaurant first, hand easily dropping from the handle to the small of Ferdinand’s back as he guides him down the little path out.

Ferdinand laughs softly, tucking a stray strand of orange behind his ear, “it was a random decision.” He admitted, “I think I just needed a break from the-... the-” he waves his hands about slightly, unable to find a word to explain it. But by the look on Claude’s face - Ferdinand knew he understood.  


The car door was opened for him, and he thanked Claude as he climbed inside, feeling strangely nervous about the entire situation. No one had ever tried to please him this much, or tried to _impress_ him or do things for him that were out of their way. It wasn’t a bad feeling, necessarily, it was just different. 

They fell into a comfortable silence, helped along by the songs playing from the radio as Claude drove them further from the city, giving Ferdinand a silent look for confirmation that Ferdinand nodded his head to. They drove up the winding hills, further from the metropolitan lights and the busyness and buzz of the friday nightlife until they pulled out into a viewing bay where the roads and houses below twinkled like stars below them and the expanse of the city shone against the dark night sky.

Ferdinand gave a nervous glance to Claude, who he found was not looking out the front window but instead at him - beautiful and dark apart from the sparkling of his bluey-green eyes and the glint of light on the coloured beads that hung on braid that fell over his eyes.

What did Claude even see when he looked at Ferdinand? Sure, Ferdinand knew he was somewhat  _ handsome _ , but to be gazed at like this, like he was the only thing in the room, was an entirely different thing.  


He looked back out the front window of the car, clearing his throat slightly before he spoke, “thank you - for getting dinner with me,” He shifted slightly in his seat - keeping his eyes out the front window, “-and paying for me.” He could see Claude grinning out the corner of his eyes, and couldn’t help the blush on his cheeks from growing, “I realise it is not quite your scene-"

“What! You think I don’t eat?” Claude interrupts with fake offense, making Ferdinand glance to him quickly - eyes opened in a panic, before he saw the grin still there-

“No!” He replied quickly, “I just- you’re usually so--”   


“Handsome? Amazing? Too perfect to be eating?” Claude continued, enjoying himself as Ferdinand panicked,  


“Too  _ cool, _ ” Ferdinand put emphasis on the ‘cool’, “to be hanging out with  _ me _ ,” and emphasis on the ‘me.’

Claude’s expression shifted suddenly, and he shook his head slightly as the smile faded and he grew more serious, “ _ Ferdinand _ , you’re refreshing to hang out with. You’re  _ honest _ , it feels.. Real.”

They drifted into silence again albeit the radio playing in the background - until Ferdinand became the one who was gazing at Claude - noting how his brows pulled together slightly like he was thinking - the usual curiosity and playfulness gone and replaced with something akin to sadness that Ferdinand would assume not many had seen before.

“Lorenz - my, ...friend.. Needs to learn a thing or two from you.” Claude admits finally, and Ferdinand is surprised with the sudden confession, unable to find words to say back before Claude is speaking again, “I want him to do something for himself for once. He’s living his life by what his parents want, and he has convinced himself that it’s what he wants to.

It’s obviously a sore topic and Ferdinand presses his lips together, then nods slightly - hoping he’s making the right decision by comparing their situations, “I used to be the same way. I still am, in small ways.” He admits softly, “But I have been realising lately there is more to life than following your parents wishes. I think he will realise this eventually.”

Claude nods in agreement - almost as if ashamed he needed the reassurance. It’s nice in ways, to know that the most popular boy in their year still feels as confused and lonely like the rest of them. That even someone who seemed like they had _ everything  _ feels sad sometimes.

Ferdinand finally looked away again, the events over the past months finally clicking into place. He couldn’t remember seeing Lorenz at Claude’s party, similarly he had heard rumours about Lorenz being unable to attend the Prom Night.

“Is.. that why you kissed me?” Ferdinand asked softly, and Claude’s lips pulled up into a small smirk, still looking out the window - arms rested over the steering wheel as music Ferdinand recognised started to fill the car.  


“Ah. You figured me out.” He said, and Ferdinand couldn’t help but laugh back softly, unable to find himself mad for his own reasons of kissing Claude were just as selfish. 

“If it is any consolation, I did not  _ truly _ know I was gay until you kissed me. So thank you, for that.” Ferdinand laughed again, glad when Claude’s own grin grew broader again- not liking how sad he had seemed before.    
  


Claude lent forwards, resting his cheek on the steering wheel as he glanced back to Ferdinand, “even _regardless_ of Lorenz - you were beautiful that night. Drunk, and carefree. I wanted to get inside your head; see if you would kiss me back. Find out if you liked boys.”   
  
  
__Baby, can't you see  
I'm calling  
A guy like you should wear a warning  
It's dangerous  
I'm falling

“I think you found your answer, very much so-” Ferdinand couldn’t help but laugh, unable to help the humour swell in his belly as Claude’s eyes crinkled around the edges, and he resisted the urge not to grin. Yet - the resistance didn’t last for long, as both of them eventually cracked - busting out in giggles like a pair of fools and, of course, laughing more the harder they tried to hide their snorts of amusement. It made Ferdinand’s stomach hurt with the amount of laughter that bubbled from his chest, and he had to cross an arm across himself as the wheezes died down.    
  


__There's no escape  
I can't wait  
I need a hit  
Baby, give me it  
You're dangerous  
I'm loving it

A tear dripped from his eye, and he raised a finger to catch it and rub it away between his fingers - using the same hand to push hair that had fallen out from behind his ears back into place, “I have not laughed so much over  _ nothing _ in so long.”

Claude nodded, his own eyes filled with tears of humour, “And I.” He agreed, still grinning away, all perfect white teeth and shiny bright eyes.

Ferdinand felt entranced, Claude was so handsome in the opposite ways of Hubert - dark where Hubert was pale and positive where Hubert was negative, “I confess, I wished Hubert would speak with me like this.”  


“I hoped he would too.” Claude said, brows pulling, “it’s wrong he didn’t - that he doesn’t see what’s in front of him.”

  
__Too high  
Can't come down  
Losin' my head  
Spinnin' 'round and 'round  
Do you feel me now?

Ferdinand blushes again, half wanting to ask what Claude sees in front of him just for the compliments, but he doesn't. Opting for something else instead.  


“Claude… would you ever kiss me again?”

"Do you want me to?" Claude asks back slowly, voice lathered in curiosity.

Ferdinand's stomach twists, and he stares to his lap before forcing a deep breath from himself, "Yes, I believe I do." He said back, and Claude's face transformed into a humorous looking type of surprise.

"Go ahead, then."

__Oh,  
The taste of your lips  
I'm on a ride__  
__You're toxic I'm slippin' under  
With a taste of a poison paradise

The air is still around them, and Ferdinand glances to where Claude is still splayed himself across the steering wheel. He turns to face Claude fully, struggling to find a place for his hand to lean until Claude reaches to take it and move it to his thigh as he leans back into the seat - unable to help feeling the way Claude’s muscles move as his legs spread ever so slightly.   
  
  
_I'm addicted to you  
Don't you know that you're toxic?_

They lean closer, - or rather, Ferdinand leans closer and Claude stays in the driver's seat - lips hot and smooth like honey when they finally meet. Unlike the ease of which Claude kisses, Ferdinand himself struggles after the first move, his sober self clumsy and awkward.   
  


_ And I love what you do  
Don't you know that you're toxic? _

Claude laughs into his mouth, pressing forwards - and he's so perfect at everything he does because as he drags Ferdinands bottom lip into his mouth, Ferdinand’s breath catches, the smallest of whines coming through.

"God, you're so cute, baby." Claude mumbles back, pressing another slow kiss to his lips again, tongue dragging over Ferdinand's bottom lip. 

  
  
__It's getting late  
To give you up  
I took a sip  
From my devil's cup  
Slowly, it's taking over me

Ferdinand grips harder onto Claude's thigh as the others hands reach up to cup his face - pulling away enough so that he could roll his thumb against Ferdinands plump bottom lip, slipping into his mouth slowly.

His eyes are dark, and Ferdinand feels helpless to the touches, closing his mouth on the finger and sucking. Claude's finger presses down roughly against his tongue, sliding it back deeper into his mouth as his eyes drop to little slits. 

  
  
__Too high  
Can't come down  
It's in the air and it's all around  
Can you feel me now?

"What else does that mouth do, Ferdie." Claude purrs, pulling Ferdinand's mouth back open with the grip he has on it. Heat pools in Ferdinand’s abdomen and his eyes slip closed, unable to help but imagine Hubert's fingers in his mouth -  _ Hubert’s _ thin lips against his own as compared to Claude's that were full and soft as his finger drops away and lips press back against him.

  
  
__Oh,  
Taste of your lips  
I'm on a ride  
You're toxic I'm slippin' under  
With the taste of a poison paradise

Ferdinand's hand slips higher up Claude's thigh as he gets pulled back in closer, and it feels great to be so  _ wanted  _ so openly, but as his knuckles graze Claude's firm erection more flashes of Hubert appear in his mind and he pulls back, lips hovering close to Claude's.  


“Are you thinking of Lorenz?” He asks, wetting his bottom lip slightly before Claude leans in to press a wet kiss against the side of his mouth, replying in his own husky tone,

“Are you thinking about  _ Hubert _ ?”

Ferdinand just leans back in to kiss Claude again, sinking into the warm wetness of his mouth and the hands that slide across his thighs - spreading them. Thoughts swim around his mind of Hubert - although they're not thoughts of kissing Hubert - no, these are ones about how little Hubert ever appreciated him, and how he deserved so much _more_ appreciation than what Hubert had been giving him.  
  
It fuels him, and he presses in closer to Claude, - allowing himself to become wrapped up in his scent and his taste, promising to himself - as his hand sneaks over the bulge in Claude's pants - that he was going to show to Hubert, now, exactly what he was missing out on.  


  
_ I'm addicted to you  _ _   
_ _ Don't you know that you're toxic _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shout out to boggiefrog for wonderful art!?!?!?!  
https://www.instagram.com/p/B2ghxqVndPv/ 
> 
> also shout out to my dearest ludella (on ao3) for giving me so many suggestions and love and help for this chapter I adore u.


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